The Devil's Destiny
by Poohbear-29
Summary: A Serial killer sets his eyes on Chris Larabee...will the others find him before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

THE DEVIL'S DESTINY!!!!

The late afternoon sun beat down on the town of Four Corners, lengthening the shadows and covering the street in a warm, dusty blanket. The stage pulled to a stop in front of the livery and the driver jumped down to open the door.

Chris Larabee never tired of watching people. You could tell a lot from the way people acted when they didn't realize they were under scrutiny. He watched the first person step out of the stage and wondered just what brought this newcomer to the town. He listened to the man as he called to the driver in a thick accent he couldn't place.

"Well now, my dear man, could you kindly hand me down my luggage," the man requested.

Chris watched the newcomer, who appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, as he struggled with the heavy bags. He finally gave up on carrying the bag and dropped it to the ground. Despite the fact he was taller, the visitor reminded Chris of Jock Steele. The pint-sized dime store novelist had made quite a name for himself and had an avid fan in JD Dunne.

The blond gunslinger stood up from his chair and pulled his hat forward on his head. His steady gaze went up and down the dusty street, searching for signs of trouble. He leaned his tense frame back against the post. His eyes were drawn once more to the stagecoach, where the newcomer was staring right back at him. Larabee kept his face serious until the man dropped his gaze and turned back to his bags. Leaving the guest behind, the leader wore a cocky grin as he set out to quench his thirst.

'_Four Corners has just handed me what I'm looking for,'_ Maguire thought as he headed for the hotel. He could feel the hint of darkness being reborn, and grinned as the excitement coursed through his body. That malevolent power that he needed was now at his fingertips. "Soon," he whispered, eyeing the lean figure disappearing through the batwing doors of the local saloon, "...soon your soul will be mine..." his eyes lit up in delicious delight.

Chris glanced around the dull interior until his green eyes met a set of familiar blue ones. The lean buckskin clad body was lounging near the back of the room. He walked towards the table and sat in the chair next to his friend. Caution kept his back to the wall, so he could maintain a constant watch on the door. Neither man said a word as Vin slid a shot glass towards the man in black.

Chris lifted the glass to his mouth and dumped the entire contents inside. He swallowed the fiery liquid, sighing audibly as it traced its way down his parched throat.

"Thirsty, Cowboy?"

"Not anymore." Larabee grinned as he set the glass back on the table. "Where is everyone?"

"Buck and JD are out on Patrol. Ezra is helping Nathan and Josiah fix somethin' at the church."

"Ezra Standish doing menial labor?" Larabee nodded as Tanner held the half full bottle of Red Eye over his empty glass.

"Well I wouldn't say he's doin' much of anythin' except gettin' in the way," Tanner laughed as he thought of the last time he'd seen Standish. The gambler was unable to hold his end of the board and he ended up pulling Nathan Jackson to the ground with him. The tracker hurried away before he collapsed in laughter.

Larabee grinned as he downed the second shot of whiskey. "Well, Pard, I think I'll go out to the shack for a couple of days."

"When're ya plannin' on leavin'?"

"First thing in the morning."

"Gonna work on fixin' up the barn?"

"Yeah, figure it's about time I fixed the damage from the last storm."

"Reckon. Anyone new come in on the stage?"

"Just one man," Chris tried to hide the instant dislike he felt for the visitor, but Tanner was the one man who could read him easily.

"He do somethin' ya didn't like?"

"Besides reminding me of Jock Steele?"

"Ah, hell, I know ya didn't like Steele, but he did a pretty good job with his novel. Leastwise that's what Josiah says," Tanner said as the saloon doors opened and a man he didn't recognize entered. "That him?" he inquired, shifting his gaze briefly as the blond head dipped once. "Don't see much of a resemblance with Steele. This guy's at least a foot and a half taller and more muscled."

"Never said he looked like him, just said he reminded me of him."

"Looks like he's comin' this way."

"Oh, great," Larabee hissed, unsure why the sight of this man set the hairs on the nape of his neck on end.

"Gentlemen, might I enquire who runs this fine establishment?"

"Ya might," Tanner said. "Don't always mean ya'll get the right answer."

"Pardon me?"

"Depends on who's asking." The gaze shifted, turning to a cautionary shade of icy green.

'_Ah, so perfect, a worthy opponent for sure.'_ The newcomer thought as he looked into the glaring green eyes. "I like to know the business people in town. It helps in my line of work."

"Who are you and what line of work are you in?"

'_Already suspicious and I've only just met him. Oh, this should be good.' _"My name is Robert Maguire and I'm a salesman."

"What sorta things ya sell?" Tanner asked as he tipped his chair back, leaning against the wall.

"Just about anything from glasses to newfangled brooms to clothing. I delve into everything. I have a catalogue if you'd like to see it, Mr..." Maguire paused and saw a steel curtain close over the blue eyes. They now reeked of danger. He glanced at the menacing figure in black and his heart skipped a beat. The pale green eyes were guarded well. Smiling inwardly, he turned to the intense man. "I didn't get your name..."

"No, you didn't" Larabee replied tersely, turning back to his whiskey.

'_Larabee, it must be him.' he recalled of the reply given by a stranger outside of whom he asked about the figure in black. 'Chris Larabee. A perfect name for the savior of my destiny,'_ he thought, his eyes shifting from one man to the other. Another image formed, the best friend...the one who the greedy wino was all too eager to talk about. It's funny how a piece of silver can loosen the right lips. Tanner...the tracker...lived with the Indians. "Would either of you be interested in looking at my catalogue?"

"Not interested," Larabee muttered as he looked at the salesman. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this pesky businessman. "I'm heading out," he rose and nodded to his partner.

"Want some help tomorrow?" Vin asked, reading the warning in the green eyes clearly, as they flicked to the stranger. The 'watch your back' was spelled out evenly and he nodded, giving his noted reply.

"Wouldn't mind," Larabee told his friend.

"If you change your mind..." Maguire's words were cut short, when the blond's eyes dissected them.

Larabee nodded slightly to his friend as he headed out the door. An uneasiness settled inside, knowing something was very strange about Robert Maguire.

"Your friend doesn't seem to trust me," Maguire observed.

Tanner smiled as the man in black disappeared. "Does he have a reason?" he asked.

Maguire smiled warmly at the sharpshooter. "No, Sir, I'm just a salesman and I'm just here to sell my wares. I hope I can do business with you."

"Ain't nothin' I need from no store," Tanner told him.

"You'd be surprised, young man, but I won't push anything on you. That's not the type of salesman I am," Maguire assured him.

"Mrs. Potter runs the store in town, ya might check with her," the sharpshooter suggested, as he stood up, "Ya stay a lot healthier, iffen ya mind yer business in this town," he advised, then left the salesman sitting at the table.

'_Ah, I see you like to pick up for Chris Larabee. Well that will soon end. He is part of my_ _destiny and soon his soul, his very being will be mine,_' Maguire thought, a tiny imperceptibly evil grin appeared on his face, but disappeared before it was fully formed. _'Soon, Chris Larabee, very soon.' _

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Devil's Destiny---2

Larabee let Pony have his lead. He knew the horse could travel this path without encouragement from him. He relaxed in the saddle, letting the steed guide them home. As the tiny shack came into view he pushed Pony a little faster in his need to be alone for a while. He slid from the saddle and led the beautiful horse to the corral where he removed the saddle and gave him a good rubdown before turning him loose.

A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of the newcomer again. He wondered what it was about Robert Maguire that set his nerves on fire. This was a man he'd just met yet Chris knew instinctively there were hidden reasons for the man's being in Four Corners. '_Ah, hell, maybe he'll be gone before you get back to town,_' he thought.

He moved towards his little shack, a smile on his face as he relaxed and let the solitude and warmth of the place ease away the tension. He opened the door and pushed his way inside. '_Home,_' he thought, letting his grin widen.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

"Good day, Mrs. Potter."

"Good day, Mr..."

"My name's Robert Maguire, Ma'am and I've been told you might be able to help me out."

"I will certainly try, Mr. Maguire. What is it you need?" Gloria Potter asked brightly.

"It's not what I need exactly, Mrs. Potter. You see I am a salesman and I've been traveling extensively in search of shall we say the perfect person to sell my wares to."

"Wares?"

"Why yes. I work for a rather large company in Boston and they are willing to ship things out to you on consignment."

"Consignment?"

"Yes, Dear Lady, it simply means they'll ship things out here for you to sell and you put it on display in your store. If it sells you receive a commission and the rest is sent back to my company. If it doesn't sell my company arranges for it to be returned. So you see there is no money lost by you either way, but you stand to make a fair profit if you give it a chance."

Gloria Potter smiled at the likable man standing before her. His short black hair was streaked with silver and she guessed his age to be around fifty. His dark brown eyes filled with excitement as he made his sales pitch. She nodded slowly as he passed her a catalogue, noting his hands were soft and unblemished as she accepted it. She looked up as the door opened and Mary Travis entered, newspapers in her hands. "Good afternoon, Mary," she greeted.

"Good afternoon, Gloria," she said and turned her attention to the man standing at the counter. She sized up the expensive well tailored grey suit and wondered where the man came from.

"Mary, have you met Mr. Maguire?"

"No, I haven't."

"Robert Maguire, this is the owner of the Clarion News, Mrs. Mary Travis."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma'am," Maguire made a flourish of lifting her hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it.

Mary smiled at the man, wondering why the touch of his lips had felt so cold on her skin. "Are you staying in Four Corners long, Mr. Maguire?" she asked.

"That depends on how things go," Maguire told her. _'And how fast I can get my hands on_ _Chris Larabee,'_ he thought, smiling sweetly at the two women.

"Mr. Maguire is a salesman, Mary."

"Really, and what do you sell, Mr. Maguire?"

"Just look at this catalogue and all the fancy doodads," Gloria told her as she slid the catalogue towards the blond woman.

Mary studied the catalogue, wondering what some of the unrecognizable items were for. "Some of these items seem a bit steep, Gloria," she commented.

"I know but Mr. Maguire says his company will do it on consignment and I don't pay for anything. I even make a profit if it sells. He says I can't lose."

"Gloria, there's always a catch."

"I assure you, Mrs. Travis, there's none. I will even give you a written guarantee," he offered.

"I'm gonna order a couple of things," Gloria Potter said as she ran her hand over a picture of a silver brush and comb set. "I might even buy one of these for myself," she said wistfully.

"It is beautiful," Mary said.

"Beautiful ladies, such as yourselves, deserve beautiful things," Maguire smiled at the two blushing women.

"Thank you, Mr. Maguire," Gloria said.

"My pleasure, Ma'am. Could either of you recommend a good place to eat while I'm in town?"

"Inez, at the saloon makes some really wonderful meals," Gloria told him. "There's a cafe in town and the dining room at the hotel is good."

"I shall take your word for it, Dear Lady, and now I shall bid you both good day and check the lady's culinary attributes," he said as he bowed and left the store.

"Man is a silver tongued devil," Gloria Potter smiled.

"He would probably enjoy talking with Ezra," Mary laughed and the two women continued to look through the catalogue.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris spent the night thinking about how his life changed since he rode into Four Corners. He'd slept well and woke up ready and willing to work. He started by making a big breakfast and attending to Pony. He readied the equipment he'd need to fix the barn and sat back to wait on the scrappy Texan.

Chris watched appreciatively as the tracker rode towards him. He knew the man was coming even before he'd caught site of the horse and rider. Two glasses of whiskey stood on the tiny table and he leaned his chair back on two legs. A small smile played on his face as the younger man rode into his yard and dismounted. Neither said a word as Tanner removed the saddle and turned Peso loose with Pony before walking to the small shack and sitting in the second chair.

"Drink?" Larabee asked, sliding the small glass across to the younger man.

"Thanks, am kinda parched," Vin smiled as he downed the shot of whiskey.

"How're things in town?"

"Quiet, almost too quiet," Tanner told him as the blond filled their glasses once more.

"Buck still staying with Blossom?"

"Yeah, but not fer long. Her fella's supposed ta be comin' back next week."

Larabee grinned as he downed the second shot, smacking his lips as the fiery liquid burned a trail down his throat. "Buck'll never learn. He'll probably be in her bed when her fella comes through the door."

Tanner laughed, "yeah but he's pretty damned quick at flyin' through windows."

Larabee laughed as he remembered Buck dropping to the ground before him when he'd first come to Four Corners. Before the seven men became friends and fellow peacekeepers. "Buck's a carouser and always will be," he grinned cockily.

"He's gonna c...carouse with the wrong lady one of these days," Tanner observed. "...end up with an ass full o'buckshot..."

"Buck'll just talk his way out of it. He's good at that."

"Well we'd best get started if'n we're gonna get this done 'fore I leave tonight."

"Reckon," Larabee smiled as the younger man stood up and moved towards the barn.

"Looks like the wind near tore the whole side outta it."

"Yeah, damned good thing Pony wasn't in there," Larabee said as he joined the younger man.

"Gonna be a lotta work," the blue eyes observed.

"You up to the challenge?" Chris inquired, raising a single sandy eyebrow and wearing a cocky grin. He saw the Tanner smile being born, before the retort came back.

"Reckon."

"I have a good stash of red eye," Larabee grinned as he removed his black shirt and draped it over the fence.

"Gonna need it," Tanner exclaimed as he looked at the barn and then down at the buckskin jacket he wore. With a heavy sigh he peeled away the layers of clothing and soon was as bare chested as Chris Larabee.

Both men moved towards the barn and worked as a team. One grabbing new boards and holding it in place, the other hammering the nails. The sun beat down from above covering both hard bodies in a glistening sheen of sweat.

"Hot work," Larabee said as he swiped at the sweat running into his eyes.

"Bar open?" Vin squinted and saw the wet blond head nod, "Good...I'm parched...I need a drink."

"Yep, maybe more than one," Larabee smiled as he dropped the board and headed for the shack.

"Sounds good," Tanner smiled and followed his friend.

Larabee poured two drinks and sank heavily into a chair. "What's Maguire up to?"

Tanner studied his friend. It wasn't often people ruffled Larabee's feathers but Robert Maguire seemed to have done just that after only a couple of minutes. "He really got ta ya didn't he?" the tracker mused with a small smile.

"I just don't trust him, Vin," Larabee said. "Something about him doesn't seem right. I can't put my hands on it, but that man is trouble."

"Well he's made a good impression on the ladies."

"What ladies?"

"Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Travis, and Miss Inez. They seem ta think he's a real gentleman."

"Keep an eye on him," Larabee warned.

"I won't have ta. Seems like he's spending a lot of time with Ez. Spoutin' five-dollar words at each other."

"Maybe Ezra will talk to him so much he'll leave town."

"Ain't never seen ya like this, Chris."

"Just keep an eye on him, Vin."

"I will," Tanner assured him as he drank the second glass of whiskey. "Reckon we'd best get some more work done."

Larabee smiled as he stood up and moved back to the barn. Once more the pounding of a hammer broke the silence as the two men finished the repair work.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Maguire couldn't help but admire the two lean bodies labouring under the hot sun. His vantage point was perfect and the special eyeglass he used made it easy to make out the beads of sweat running down the two glistening bodies. _'It's amazing the information a_ _drink can buy you,_' he thought, remembering the thirsty drunk who'd eagerly pointed the way to Larabee's home. He moved the glass from one figure to the other, knowing once he took his intended victim the other man would be a force to be reckoned with. He turned away from the two men and hurried back to his rented horse. He wanted to be back in town before Tanner returned.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

"When're ya comin' back ta town?"

"A couple of days," Larabee said as he reached up and clasped the younger man's arm in their forearm clasp.

"Be seein' ya, Cowboy."

Larabee's mouth curled up, "Watch your back, Tanner." He warned and watched the younger man ride out, the sun just going behind the clouds as he relaxed back in the chair.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

It was four days later when Chris finally rode back into Four Corners. The streets were quiet, even for early afternoon and he briefly wondered where everyone was. Laughter reached his ears and he headed for the hotel. He dismounted and looped Pony's reins over the hitching post. As he pushed open the door people turned towards him. Chairs were set up and every one was occupied with a member of the town, including the other six peacekeepers.

"Hi, Chris," Dunne was the first to see him.

"JD, what's going on?"

"Robert is showing us some of the things he's selling in that catalogue. You should see this stuff, Chris."

Larabee's eyes met the dark eyes of Robert Maguire and again felt there was something strange about the man, something he knew he couldn't just dismiss. '_Why are you really_ _here?'_ he thought as the other man again broke contact.

'_So strong, so dark, so perfect. Soon, Chris Larabee, very, very soon,'_ Maguire thought. "Now this is something you gentlemen could buy for your wife or special lady," he said as he held up the silver brush and comb set that had caught both Mary Travis and Gloria Potter's attention. "The detail on this is wonderful and it will last for years. It'll probably become a family heirloom and be passed from mother to daughter for years to come," he smiled as he looked around the room, his eyes once more coming to rest on the blond gunslinger. "What about you, Mr. Larabee? Is there a special lady you would like to present this too?"

"Yeah, Stud, who would you give a brush and comb to," Wilmington laughed as he looked from Larabee to Mary Travis and back again.

"Well, Mr. Larabee?" Maguire asked.

"Told you before, I'm not interested," Larabee directed and stared hard at Maguire, "...in anything from you." He turned slowly and left the room. He shook off the odd feeling once he left the hotel and headed for the saloon.

"Hey, Cowboy, what's the rush?"

Larabee turned at the familiar voice, waiting for the younger man to catch up. "I need a drink."

"Want some company?"

"You don't want to see the other things Maguire is selling?"

"Nah, ya know I don't cotton ta none of that useless city stuff."

"Glad I'm not the only one," Larabee managed, shaking his head and crossing through the batwing doors.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Maguire continued to show the items he managed to bring with him even though he wanted nothing more than to put his plans in motion. Designs that would soon see the blond gunslinger under his particular brand of care. He lifted a surgical instrument and showed it to the excited crowd, his eyes coming to rest on Nathan Jackson. He'd done his homework and knew this man was the town healer. The ex-slave was a very good one from the praise the people heaped on him. "This is the newest surgical instrument from John's Hopkins. As you can see it's very strong and I'm sure Mr. Jackson can appreciate the fine workmanship." He held up the scalpel turning it so the people in the room could see the carved handle and the well honed edge on the blade.

"It is a nice piece. How much for that one?"

"Sorry," Maguire said, knowing he'd need this little gem for his own private use. "This one is only for show. I can have one sent with Mrs. Potter's order." Maguire opened the catalogue and quoted the price to Jackson.

Jackson thought for a few minutes, his eyes straying to the item in Maguire's hand before making up his mind. "I'll take one," he said.

"A very wise decision, Mr. Jackson," Maguire grinned as he marked in his book. When the final item was shown Maguire breathed a sigh of relief. With his prey so close, he was anxious for the game to begin.

"Mr. Maguire, would you like to join us for a drink?" Yosemite asked.

"Why that would be fine, Yosemite. All this talk has left me a little parched," he followed the other men out of the hotel and walked with them towards the saloon. He knew Larabee's men were with them and would form a circle around their leader.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Larabee heard the large group coming towards the saloon and poured himself and Tanner a drink.

"Sounds like Maguire is finished with his sales pitch," Tanner said as the doors swung open and a group of rambunctious men piled in.

"So much for peace and quiet," Larabee hissed as he downed the whiskey. He looked at the salesman coming towards their table.

"Mr. Larabee, I'd like to apologize for putting you on the spot back there. I really didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't offend me," Larabee told him.

"Will you accept a drink to show you how truly sorry I am."

"Go on, Chris, let the man buy you a drink," Wilmington chortled with a wink as he slid into the chair beside his old friend.

"Please, Mr. Larabee," Maguire begged.

"Ah, Chris, he really does sound sorry," Tanner smiled at his friend.

"Alright, Maguire," the leader hissed, clearly annoyed.

"I'll be right back," Maguire smiled as he moved towards the bar, his thoughts once more turning to his plans for the man in black. He returned with a bottle of the most expensive whiskey Inez had to offer and pulled a chair up to the table. He opened it and poured the first shot in the gunslinger's glass, before filling the other six glasses and one for himself. "Salute," he said as he raised his glass.

"What?" Dunne asked.

"It's a toast Mr. Dunne," Standish observed.

"Oh," Dunne said as he raised his glass. "S...salute."

Larabee swallowed the whiskey and nodded to Maguire. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome, Mr. Larabee," Maguire smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes.

"Well, Chris, how're things at your place?" Wilmington asked.

"Fine, Buck," Larabee answered as he accepted the bottle from Maguire and refilled his glass, his eyes meeting the dark ones of the newcomer. _'It's like there's nothing in there,'_ he thought as he passed the bottle back. Again the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end as the man lowered his eyes and looked away.

"Did you and Vin get the barn fixed?"

"We did," Larabee answered the ladies man.

"Well, gentlemen, I have a few things to straighten out at the bank. Now that I've got my orders I shall be leaving your fair town."

"When are you plannin' on leavin'?" Tanner asked.

"Sometime tomorrow morning."

"There's no stage tomorrow," Larabee told him.

"I know, Mr. Larabee. I bought a fine horse from Yosemite. He assures me that I did indeed get a good animal."

"Yosemite only sells the best," Larabee agreed, not showing the relief he felt at the news that this man would be leaving Four Corners.

"Thank you, Mr. Larabee, I'm sure he does. Anyway, good day, gentlemen," he said as he left the saloon.

Tanner met Larabee's gaze and could see the relief shining there. '_Ya really don't like that_ _man do ya, Cowboy?'_ he thought as the blond lifted his glass.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The Devil's Destiny---3

Chris saddled Pony and led him from the livery, as the bright morning sunshine drove away some of the weariness he felt. His face bore the fatigue only a restless night tossing in bed can do. Maguire's features invaded his nightmares and he was glad the man was leaving town today. He would be only to glad to see the unsettling presence leave the town that had become home. He rode the horse out of town, nodding as he passed Vin Tanner going into the jail.

Chris figured he was riding for an hour when he first noticed he was being followed. He slowed Pony to a walk and gave the person a chance to catch up, swearing as he recognized the rider coming towards him.

"Good morning, Mr. Larabee."

"What do you want, Maguire," Larabee snapped, angry that this man was following him.

"I just wanted to apologize once more before I left."

"You already did that," he told him, his nerve endings tingling as he gazed into the dead eyes before him.

"I know but I still feel bad. It's such a hot day and I thought you would accept this as a peace offering," Maguire smiled as he pulled a bottle from his saddlebag.

Larabee took the expensive bottle, his uneasiness with this man still wreaked havoc on his senses and he angrily tossed the bottle to the ground. "Look, Maguire, I haven't hidden the fact that I don't trust you and about the only thing I want from you is to see your back as it rides away from Four Corners," he spat. He quickly turned away from the man and hurried away.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Maguire watched the retreating figure dressed in black, an evil grin forming on his face. He dismounted and picked up the intact bottle and slid it back into his saddlebag. "Oh, Chris, you are worthy and soon I'll be able to show you just what you mean to me," he whispered. His eyes continued to follow his intended victim until he disappeared around the bend. His admiration for the hostile gunslinger could be read openly on his face as he mounted his horse and rode away.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris continued patrolling the area north of town for several hours. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as he finished the final search of the area. His parched throat told him it was time for something with more of a kick than water and he headed back towards town.

Maguire rode north until he spotted the familiar copse of trees. He found this cave some time ago. He was using it as a base when he wasn't searching for someone to help him fulfill his destiny. As he dismounted in front of the hidden dwelling, he thought of how perfect Larabee would be. He pushed away the rocks and brush he used to cover the entrance and strode purposefully inside. Just inside the door he found a lantern and lit it before going deeper into the cavern.

The tunnel leading to the main chamber had a low ceiling and the salesman was forced to duck in places to keep from hitting his head. He smiled as he entered the thirty by forty foot chamber. The supplies he laid in over the past few months were untouched and he knew things were ready. All he needed was to bring the gunslinger and show him the art of meeting one's destiny.

Maguire moved to a small trunk and pulled out a small black and white photo. "See, father, I do have what it takes." He lovingly caressed the picture, his eyes misting with tears. "I warned you not to hurt me, but you wouldn't listen. Now you're burning in hell and I'm the one who put you there." He threw the picture across the room, watching as the paper fluttered slowly to the ground. "I'm so much stronger than you ever were, you bastard," he swore as he turned and hurried from the chamber.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

"Hey, Chris," Dunne called as Larabee rode back into town.

The gunslinger pulled Pony to a stop in front of the livery and dismounted. "JD," he greeted. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," the youth answered, following Larabee into the livery.

"Where's everyone?"

"Over at the saloon," the easterner answered as the older man passed Pony's reins to Yosemite.

"Sounds like the perfect place to be." The parched man strode away from the livery and hurried across the street.

He entered the dull interior and quickly found the other five men he called friends. The tracker was seated off to himself with two empty glasses on the table before him. Larabee grinned as Tanner poured a shot of whiskey in each glass.

He slid into the vacant chair and picked up the silent offering. "Thanks," he sighed gratefully and swallowed the fiery liquid.

"Any problems?" Tanner asked.

"Ran into Maguire."

Tanner's eyes shot up imperceptibly. "What did he want?"

"Wanted to apologize and offered me a bottle of expensive whiskey."

"What'd ya do with it?"

Larabee helped himself to a second shot and slugged it back. "Threw it on the ground and told him to leave," he finally answered.

Tanner's head bobbed once in understanding. "Ez and the kid saw him headed south a little 'fore noon today." He knew his friend would shake off the feelings of uneasiness now that Maguire was out of the picture.

"Must've came back here right after I met up with him."

"Reckon."

The two men lapsed into companionable silence. Neither man needed to talk to get their feelings across. They knew the important things could be said with the toss of a head or a simple hand gesture. The conversations in the room carried back to them and they sighed contentedly.

"I'm going to miss the stunning conversations between myself and Mr. Maguire," Standish observed as he dealt the ever present deck of cards.

"Don't we give you stunning conversations, Ezra?" Dunne asked.

"I assure you, Mr. Dunne, our conversations are more than stunning," Standish smiled at the younger man.

"Did you guys buy anything from Maguire?" Jackson asked.

"I bought one of those hair combs for Casey."

"The silver one?"

"No, Buck, Maguire said it's called a comb and just sits in her hair."

"What's the good in that?" Wilmington asked.

"It's supposed to look nice," the sheriff explained.

"Thought you liked Casey as she was?" the ladies man teased.

"Buck, it's a gift. You know something you give to a lady to show her you appreciate her," Dunne explained.

The moustached man smiled and arched his eyebrows knowingly. "JD, there are gifts and then there are gifts," he grinned mischievously.

"Buck, you always say that," the kid huffed.

"You'll learn all about the finer art of gift giving as you get older," Wilmington laughed as the younger man got up to leave. "Go ahead and give her the comb. I'm sure she'll appreciate it more than the frog digger."

"You were a bit rough on him, Brother," Sanchez observed.

"The kid has to learn it ain't about giving things. At least not those kind of things."

"Buck, that kid could probably show you a thing or two about gifts for ladies," Jackson told him.

"Well, I gotta go give Miss Blossom a real gift," Wilmington laughed and left the others alone in the saloon.

"He'll never learn," Larabee muttered, leaning his chair back against the wall, relaxing for the first time since Maguire showed up in town.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

"Headin' out?" Tanner asked a week later. The town was quiet except for a couple of trail hands who now resided in jail until they sobered up.

Larabee turned as the tracker came into the livery. "Yeah, figure I'll go check on the repairs we made to the barn. See how they held up in the storm yesterday."

"Ya comin' back tonight?"

"Probably not. I'll do a patrol of the area along the way and spend a couple of days at my place. I'll see you in a few days."

"Alright." The sharpshooter watched as his friend left town before turning towards the saloon.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris dismounted and unsaddled Pony. His patrol of the area was quiet and he relaxed as he released the beautiful animal into the corral. He picked up his saddlebags and headed for the small house he now called home. He opened the door and walked into the dull interior, depositing the saddlebags on the table. He looked at the bottle of whiskey on the mantle and sighed. He picked up the bottle, poured himself a small shot and downed it. Sighing in contentment as he placed the bottle on the table.

The sun was just beginning its downward journey and he moved back outside to check the barn. He examined the repairs, smiling as he noted they held up nicely during the storm. His gaze fell on the borrowed wagon. _'Guess I'll return that tomorrow,'_ he thought, shaking his head as his vision blurred slightly.

He moved to the small corral and picked up the brush. He used it to give the horse a good rubdown, before making sure the animal had plenty of feed and water. Again he shook his head to ward off the dizziness building there. "What the hell..." he muttered tiredly. He walked out of the corral and made his way towards the house. He barely made it to the front door and grabbed the porch rail as his vision blurred once more. He turned at the sound of footsteps, his hands moving towards his gun as he recognized the shape standing before him. His arms felt leaden as he tried to pull the colt from the holster.

"What the hell did you d...do?" he snarled as he felt himself losing his tenuous hold on consciousness. He fell heavily to the ground, his head impacting with the edge of the railing. He felt a sharp pain on the right side of his head.

Maguire reached for the semi conscious man, an evil grin on his face. He ignored the tiny trickle of blood from the wound as he spoke softly. "I did what I had to do in order to take my destiny."

"S...son of a B...bitch," Larabee swore as he tried to fight the oncoming lethargy washing over his body. He felt Maguire remove his colt from his hand and something was wrapped tightly around his wrists. '_I hate it when I'm right,_' was his last thought as darkness overtook the light of day.

Robert Maguire worked quickly to secure the blond's wrists. He grinned as he thought of the hours spent watching the tiny clearing, waiting for this man to return. "Can't have you hurting yourself when I can do a much better job of it," he grunted as he bound the ankles of the unconscious victim. He hurriedly hitched his horse to the wagon and turned back to the gunslinger, easily lifting him inside. As a precaution he gagged and blindfolded the gunslinger, patting his shoulder gently before speaking. "Destiny is a wonderful thing as you'll soon find out."

The salesman jumped down from the wagon and hurried into the cabin to get some supplies. He took blankets, coffee and the bottle of whiskey, realizing he'd need the drug. The blond captive would be rousing before they got to the cave. He hurried back outside and covered Larabee with one of the blankets. Darkness was quickly descending as he rode away from his prisoner's home. He knew the route by heart and couldn't take the chance one of Larabee's men would discover them as he aimed the wagon towards the cavern so far away.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

The Devil's Destiny---4

Four Corners was blanketed under a cloak of darkness, except for the fires burning in the street. Six men sat in their usual seats in the saloon as Inez returned with a final round of drinks for them.

"Well, I think it's time fer me ta turn in. I've got early patrol tomorrow." Vin yawned and stretched his arms.

"Good night, Mr. Tanner," Standish said.

"Night, Vin," Wilmington, Dunne, Jackson and Sanchez said at once.

Vin stepped into the street and looked up at the millions of stars shining overhead. He never tired of the beauty nature had to offer and he breathed deeply of the warm night air. A shudder ran down his back as he looked towards the moon and a dark cloud blotted out the circular orb. '_Damn,_' he thought as he headed for his wagon.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Robert Maguire looked at the man hanging before him. He knew he was on the verge of waking up and that brought a smile to his face as stepped towards his victim. He snagged the blond hair and lifted the head. "It's time to wake up and meet your destiny, Chris Larabee," he whispered in the man's ear.

The gunslinger moaned as the hand gripped his hair and pulled up sharply. He couldn't remember what happened, but he knew this was going to be bad. He forced his eyes to open and look at the man holding his head.

"Welcome to your destiny, Chris Larabee," Maguire laughed and released his captive's head.

Chris kept his eyes open and looked around. His hands were tied with a length of cord and secured to a hook above his head, his ankles were likewise secured to hooks in the ground and his legs were partially spread. His cloths had been removed and an Indian loincloth was around his waist. His body trembled in the cold cave and he searched out his nemesis.

"Do you like our home, Chris?"

"You son of a bitch," Larabee hissed.

"You will call me worse than that before I take your soul."

Larabee's head was ringing and he struggled to grasp the man's words. "What the hell are you talking about, Maguire?"

"My father taught me that I could break a man and take his strength and his soul as my own if I found the right man. He said it was a man's destiny. I knew when I saw you that you were the one."

"The one what?" Larabee tried to stay focused but the lingering effects of the drug made it impossible.

"The one who would make me whole."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, knowing without a doubt he didn't really want the answer.

"I'm going to kill you, Chris Larabee, but not before you scream out your pain. As that scream leaves your body so will your strength and your soul. At that point I will truly own them both," Maguire laughed as he took something from his pocket. The light reflected off the shiny metal and Chris recognized it as a scalpel, one similar to those Nathan Jackson would use. "I will know when the time is right and the scream real," he said as he touched the blade to Larabee's thigh. He sliced across the leg with just enough pressure to bring a thin stream of blood to the surface. "We have forever to make you scream, Chris and until you do I will enjoy watching you suffer," Maguire hissed as he turned away from his victim.

Larabee clenched his teeth as the stinging bite of the scalpel ebbed. He felt the blood flow slowly from the wound and slide in a sticky line down his leg. The wound itself wasn't deep and he knew it wouldn't kill him, but the slowly oozing blood could have devastating effects if it didn't stop.

"Oh, don't worry, Chris, I have no intention of letting you bleed to death," Maguire smiled as he poured whiskey onto a strip of cloth and applied it to the wound. "We have only just begun and have so much more to do. My father said I was the devil and he just may have been right."

"You bastard," Larabee hissed.

Maguire's fist shot out and connected with the gunslinger's right cheek, rocking his head back and bringing a bright red mark to his face. "You will never call me that again!" he snarled as his left fist drove into Larabee's midsection, driving the air from his lungs.

Larabee clenched his eyes as he desperately tried to draw air back into his starving lungs. He moaned softly as he finally succeeded and wondered how he was ever going to get away from the maniac smiling gleefully at him.

Maguire reached out with his index finger and touched the blood dripping from his victim's split lip. He grinned evilly as he stuck the finger in his mouth, "So sweet," he said. "Nectar of the Gods."

The green eyes glared angrily at the man before him and Maguire knew his instincts were right and he'd found the perfect man. "My search is finally over, Chris. The others were satisfying, but did not make me whole. With your death, I will be complete. I will live forever with the added strength of your dark soul. Sleep well, Chris, for when I return the games will begin anew."

'_How the hell did I get into this,'_ the gunslinger thought as he watched the man leave the cave. He struggled with the cord wrapped around his wrists and realized all he'd managed to do was tighten them. He felt blood running from the abused flesh but continued to work on his bonds. He had no way of knowing how much time elapsed before his arms screamed in protest, the muscles cramping from his efforts to get free. The drug Maguire fed him was still in his system and he felt his fatigued body surrender to the call of sleep. _'Hell, Vin, I need help,'_ he thought as his eyes slid closed.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Tanner sat bolt upright in his wagon, sweat beading on his forehead as the word resounded in his head. He knew it was Chris, knew instinctively something was wrong. The cry for help was something he hadn't expected, but it was something he wouldn't deny. He climbed out of the wagon and looked along the darkened street. Dawn was just beginning to brighten the sky as he moved towards the livery. Peso stood in the usual stall and Vin moved to saddle the horse.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Tanner?"

Vin turned to see Ezra Standish leading his horse into the livery. The tracker knew the gambler was just returning from patrol and would soon head for his room to sleep the morning away. "I don't know, Ez," he answered.

"Those are ominous words. Are you perhaps sensing danger around our fair town?"

"Danger? Yeah, but it's not for the town. I think Chris is in trouble."

"Fire!" the call went up from a small home on the opposite end of town and both men forgot their conversation as one of the most feared words echoed through the town. They reached the burning building within seconds of the panicked cry and joined the bucket brigade.

When the word fire sounded in a town people moved fast. The buildings surrounding the afflicted one were in as much danger as the burning structure and people moved to save them. Buckets of water passed from one tired set of hands to another as men and women fought the blaze. They brought it under control just after daybreak but not soon enough to save the building. Luckily no one was hurt but a family was now without a home. The Millers were a proud family and lived in Four Corners since the beginning and they vowed to rebuild. A loud cheer rang up from the group at the news the couple and their three children would remain in town.

"Well, it appears even a tragedy such as this doesn't diminish the Millers' need to partake of the hardships of western civilization."

"Whatever you say, Ez," Tanner smiled tiredly as he followed the other men to the saloon. Inez saw them coming and knew they'd want something to eat. She'd prepared biscuits, bacon, and beans in large quantities, knowing the tired group of firefighters would be hungry.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris Larabee lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. He had no idea how long he'd been hanging in the cave but the fire died out hours ago and he'd been left in the damp, cloying darkness. He heard movement to his left and knew instinctively that the madman was back.

Maguire moved towards his victim and reached out to touch the bare skin. He used the scalpel to trail a thin line across the blonde's chest, smiling at the sharp intake of breath.

"So nice of you to join me, Chris, I do hope you're enjoying your new accommodations."

"Go to hell," Larabee spat.

"Ah, I would love to grant you your wish, Chris, but I'm afraid I'll be making your life a living hell instead," Maguire remarked.

Chris heard him move away, but knew he'd be back. He closed his eyes against the bright light as his personal demon started a small blaze going in the cave. The light from the fire reached him but the warmth stayed just beyond his reach as he shivered in his bonds.

"Are you cold, Chris?"

"Not at all," Larabee answered sarcastically.

"I'm glad to hear that because I won't be staying in this cave with you. There's a lovely family just down the road a pace and they've kindly offered to let me have one of their beds since they won't be needing them."

"What the hell does that mean?" the gunslinger asked, dreading the answer he knew was coming.

"Well, I'm afraid they met with an untimely death. It seems they fell victim to a few misplaced bullets. Oh well, shall we continue with our games?"

"You bastard," Larabee swore as Maguire showed him the whip he held in his hands.

"I bought this just for you, Chris. You should feel honored that I spent this money on my gift for you. I did not want to use instruments that were sullied by others. You are special, Chris Larabee, and nothing that touched anyone else will touch the skin on your body," Maguire's soft lilting voice was the only sound in the cave as he slowly ran the edge of the whip across his victim's taut muscles. "You will soon understand how much you mean to me. You will soon beg me to take your soul and free you from the chains of life," he drawled as he pulled the whip back over his right shoulder and let it fly in a tight arch towards the shivering form.

The gunslinger bit his lip as the first lash landed on his bare back. He held his breath waiting for the next to fall and clenched his fists at the agonizing white fire that burned a trail across his back and shoulders. He stopped counting as the sixth blow landed and tried to concentrate on something other than the searing pain Maguire was inflicting on him. "I'll kill you," he swore as another blow landed.

"I don't think so, Chris. Hmm, I think that's enough for now," Maguire said as he walked back to the fire.

Chris held his breath, waiting for the agony in his back to dwindle enough for him to take a breath.

"I just have to clean them now, Chris," Maguire explained as he placed a whiskey covered cloth over the raw wounds.

"Son of a bitch," Larabee hissed as he sagged against the cord holding his wrists.

"Oh, Chris, this really is only the beginning for both of us," Maguire gripped the blond hair and pulled the head back. He forced the bottle through the lips and poured the liquid into his victim's mouth, forcing him to swallow the fiery offering.

The whiskey burned as it flowed down his throat and Chris gagged against the searing fluid. He'd drank rot gut before but this was something worse. He gagged and sputtered as his stomach expelled its contents leaving him weak and disoriented.

"Such a waste. No matter. Why don't you close your eyes and get some rest. I will return later and we shall play more games."

Larabee's mouth, throat and stomach burned and he wondered what Maguire forced on him to make him feel so sick and cause so much pain internally. He sagged against the bonds once more, a silent cry emanating from his tortured throat. "Help," he rasped weakly.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Mary sat at her desk looking through old files. She'd known the Millers since she'd moved to Four Corners. The couple were already making planes to rebuild their home. She was searching for an old article written the day they arrived. They were one of the original homesteaders. She smiled as she came across the article about Chris Larabee. _'Bad element,_' she thought. _'Not so, Mr. Larabee,_' she smiled as she placed the article on top of the ones she'd already searched through, shaking her head when she noticed an article she'd dropped on the floor. She picked up the clipping and placed it on top of the one she'd just looked at.

Mary reached for the next article but something on the paper she'd just picked up caught her attention. The headlines and picture on the clipping caught her eye. She gasped as she realized the man staring up at her from an old newspaper article was none other than Robert Maguire; a little younger but there could be no mistaking who he was. She re-read the headline, knowing this man had wormed his way into their lives. She read the article and rushed out of the newspaper office in search of the peacekeepers. She ran towards Nathan Jackson's clinic ignoring the strange looks people turned her way. She hurried up the stairs and pushed open the door.

Jackson looked up as the breathless woman entered his clinic. "What's wrong, Mrs. Travis?"

"N...Nathan, where are the others?" she asked worriedly.

"Buck and JD are at the jail. Josiah is working at the church. Vin's getting ready to head out. Ezra's probably sleeping and Chris is at his shack," Jackson explained.

"I found this," she passed him the article and watched the shock on his face as he read the terrifying words.

"Come on, Mrs. Travis," he rushed from the clinic in a hurry to find the others and show them Mary's discovery. He ran to the jail calling to Buck and JD.

Dunne looked at Wilmington and rushed to open the door. "What's wrong, Nate?"

"JD, go wake Ezra and meet us at the church," Jackson ordered.

"Why?"

"Just do it, JD," Jackson shouted.

"Buck, I gotta go wake Ez. Nathan wants us all at the church."

"Did he say why?" Wilmington asked as he moved to join the younger man.

"No but him and Mrs Travis were in an awful hurry."

"Alright, Kid, go get him and meet us there," Wilmington said as he hurried after the healer and the newspaperwoman.

Ten minutes later six men and one woman huddled in the tiny church as Mary Travis read the article aloud. She skimmed over the first few lines and skipped straight to the part of the article that sent knife like tendrils of fear into her heart. "Robert Maguire is wanted for the torture deaths of four men. The murders took place near his hometown but went undiscovered until a young couple stumbled over the gruesome scene while riding near Simpson's Crossing. The victims were identified by belongings found nearby. Ronald Parker, Johnny Mercer, Brian Barnes, and Joseph Carter were positively identified by family members and later shipped to their homes for proper burial. The bodies were scored with knife wounds, lash marks and burns, officials state the men suffered over a period of several days. Officials are unsure if Maguire was acquainted with the four men or if they were victims of a random rage. However, they report that the men appeared similar in appearance, all being of the same age, height, build, with blond hair and green eyes. This information was confirmed with the victims' families, who also knew of no known association between the men or with Maguire. Robert Maguire is considered dangerous and there is a reward for his capture dead or alive," Mary finished reading and turned to the six men, waiting for a response.

"I think I'll go check on Chris," Tanner told them, remembering the strange sensation that woke him earlier in the day. The silent cry for help was forgotten in the heated call of fire.

Mary looked back at the article and a shiver of dread ran through her. "You don't think Maguire would..." her voice trailed off as she looked at each man.

"I don't know, Mary, but I aim to find out," Tanner assured her.

"We aim to find out, Brother," Sanchez said leading the way out of the church.

Mary watched the six men hurry towards the livery, "Please, God, keep them all safe," she prayed.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

The Devil's Destiny---5

His stomach was finally returning to normal with just a minor twinge of the agonizing fire he'd felt earlier. His arms and shoulders felt leaden as he struggled against the cords holding him tight. He'd tried to pull his ankles from the cords attached to them, but gave up when all it did was cause more agony to his shoulders when he lifted his feet completely off the floor. Time held little meaning for the gunslinger as there was no means to measure it in the dark confines of the cave. No light entered the cavern once the fire went out leaving him no way to tell whether it was night or day. He sagged against his bonds and let his head drop to his chest. _'I'm not giving up,'_ he thought. '_Just need to rest for a little while.'_

He had no idea how long he slept but the sound of footsteps brought him back to the familiar darkness. He knew Maguire was back and he knew he'd need every ounce of strength he could muster to survive whatever this madman had in mind for him. He closed his eyes as a spark of light caught near him, the brightness of the quick flame causing his eyes to blink rapidly.

Maguire built up the fire until it illuminated the cavern. He rubbed his hands over the flame, smiling at the heat he felt there. He stood up and walked the short distance between the fire and his victim. "Hello, Chris, I hope you slept well."

Larabee refused to answer, his body trembling as the warmth of the fire finally reached him. Revulsion filled his eyes sending a warning that he'd find a way to repay what Maguire was doing to him.

Maguire hid the fear he felt wash over him as the restrained man glared at him. He knew if his victim ever got free he'd pay dearly for the pain he inflicted on him. He turned away from the gunslinger, hoping the blond hadn't read the fear in his own eyes. "I guess you're not feeling very talkative this morning, Chris. That's okay because I'll do the talking for both of us. I want you to know a little about me."

"I know all I need to know," Larabee snarled.

"No, Chris you don't. I'm sure you remember me telling you you're not my first victim. You are number five. At least that's the official count, I learned as I went and the others will never be found. I can also include the bastard who called himself my father. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to him for teaching me the things I could do. The power I could gain by taking a man's life at just the right moment," he stalked back to the gunslinger, a look of longing on his face, licking his lips as if tasting the hint of desire, a desire to own this man's soul. "The power that you hide deep inside you. The power only you know about. You've felt it every time you've taken a life. Haven't you, Chris? All those innocent victims dead by your hand."

"I never killed an innocent man," Larabee growled.

"How can you be sure? Don't bother answering that because it really doesn't matter. You have the strength of each victim inside you and when you die at my hands I will gain not only your strength and soul but theirs as well. My father taught me many things about pain, Chris, and I will teach them all to you before you die." He reached out and ran his fingers along Larabee's right cheek, smiling when the blond tried to pull away. "Before you die you will beg my forgiveness and know that I am your master. The owner of your soul. The only man worthy of taking your life."

"You're a coward, Maguire," Larabee sneered as the cold fingers continued to touch him.

"I am not a coward, Chris. If I was I wouldn't be able to fulfill my destiny. Or should I say our destiny?" He walked back to the fire and picked up the cup he placed near the flames. "I have something for you to drink. It's just water and a little something to get your imagination working properly. It's something my father used to use and I know from personal experience that it makes for a wild ride. It's made from the nightshade plant and has been used in many ways. For our purposes it'll be used to give you a taste of what losing control is all about. It'll make you feel really strange, make your heart race faster than that beautiful animal you ride. Hopefully I'm using the right amount this time and you won't get so sick to your stomach," he explained.

Larabee swallowed, painfully aware of the last experience he suffered with liquids this man forced down his throat. He clamped his lips tightly as Maguire stood before him.

"That won't do, Chris," Maguire told him, Once more reaching for the blond hair and pulling the head back. The corded muscles in the exposed throat sent a ripple of pleasure through the evil man. He recognized the strength in them and knew when death took this man, that strength would be his to harness. "It would be easier if you'd just open your mouth."

Larabee ignored the calm voice but couldn't ignore the pain as his hair was pulled back, stopping just short of pulling it from his scalp.

Maguire released the blond hair and grabbed his victim's nose, squeezing tightly until the gunslinger had no choice but to open his mouth and gulp in the much needed air. As soon as the mouth opened Maguire forced the liquid inside, clamping his hand over the lips in an effort to keep his prisoner from spitting the liquid back out. He repeated the process until the cup was empty and the bound man was coughing and gasping for breath. "It would've been so much easier on you if you'd only drank it and sat back to enjoy the experience."

"G...go to h...hell," Larabee gasped weakly, his chest heaving as he drew in the much needed oxygen.

"I assure you that is where I will end up someday. I have pledged my soul to the devil and received the strength to do what I need to do. It's a bargain I will continue to benefit from, Chris, and you are the stepping stone that will help me be strong for my destiny. Rest now because once the drug takes effect there will be little rest for you until it runs its course."

"Bastard!"

"You'll call me worse than that before we're through," Maguire grinned as he walked back to the fire. "Much worse."

Chris closed his eyes against the pain and nausea, knowing the drug Maguire forced on him was already starting to affect his vision. He groaned as a throbbing ache built in his head and tried to ignore the voice that continued to tell him of their future together. He lost the fight with the nausea and a thin stream of vomit erupted from his mouth.

"Dammit, I should make you take more of it," Maguire snapped as he walked backed to his victim. "We'll wait a little while and see if there was enough left in you to produce the effects I want," he laughed as the green eyes dulled with pain. "Relax and let the drug work for you, Chris. I can guarantee you won't be disappointed in its effects. Or Should I say I won't?"

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

They rode fast and hard, knowing their leader matched the descriptions of Robert Maguire's other victims. Each man prayed their friend was safe and they'd find him working on the place they considered his little piece of heaven.

Vin rode slightly ahead of the others, his worry and fear for his friend causing him to keep the pace fast and furious. He followed the trail he'd covered many times before and soon pulled Peso to a halt in the clearing that surrounded the tiny shack. His eyes drifted to the horse standing in the corral. It seemed so natural, yet something felt out of kilter as he dismounted and hurried towards the animal.

"Something's wrong." Wilmington hurried towards the corral and stood beside the tracker.

"I'm gonna check the house, Buck."

Wilmington nodded and tried to ignore the look of guilt in the tracker's eyes. "Vin, we could be wrong," he said, not believing his own words but needing to say them anyway.

Tanner nodded as he watched the other four men search the surrounding area for any signs of the gunslinger. He walked to the small house and opened the door. He stepped into the gloomy interior, knowing instinctively that Chris wasn't there. His eyes swept over the inside, coming to rest on the small bed, the empty table, the cold stove. _'Dammit,_ _Cowboy, where are you?'_ the thought, leaving the house to join the others. He stopped as his eyes fell on a dark stain on the step leading into the house. He reached down and touched it, knowing instinctively it was blood. He called the others over and showed them his discovery.

"Vin, can you see if you can pick up a trail?" Wilmington asked, his eyes drifting to the darkening sky overhead.

Tanner nodded slightly and moved to search the area.

"JD, you ride back to town and tell Mary we didn't find Chris but we're going to keep searching for him."

"Buck I want to..."

"Look, Kid, I know you want to help search but someone's gotta stay in town in case Chris returns," Wilmington snapped.

"Easy, Brothers. We don't need to be at each other's throats right now. If Brother Chris is in trouble we need to work together to get him out of it. Buck, if JD really wants to go with you I can go back to town and let Mary know what's happening."

"Thanks, Josiah," Dunne said gratefully.

"Alright, Kid, you come with us. Josiah, as soon as we find out anything we'll try and let you know. Hopefully Vin will find the trail pretty quickly." The ladies man said, knowing in his heart that Chris Larabee was in danger and he was pretty certain where that danger came from. He looked toward the side of the shack and his eyes met those of the tracker. He knew Vin felt the same way he did. Robert Maguire was a madman who preyed on men fitting Chris's description. Now Chris was missing and there was blood on the step leading to his home. '_Stay alive, Pard, we'll find you,_' he silently vowed.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris knew the things he was seeing weren't really there, but it didn't make it any easier for him. He heard Maguire's soft laughter as the first of the nightmarish creatures appeared before him. He recognized most of them as animals, but they'd become distorted and gruesome as a result of the nightshade's influence. A large bear with the head of a cat hissed as it raced towards him out of the fire. He squeezed his eyes tightly only to open them to a new and even more terrifying sight. A man stood before him holding a woman's head, her long blond hair streaked with red, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes beseeching him to help her. "N...no," the word barely passed his lips as the vision faded to be replaced by a snarling wolf. Its paw snapped out and Chris felt something sharp slash across his chest. He cried out as his head dropped forward and all visions stopped.

Maguire wiped the bloodied scalpel on his shirt. He knew what to expect from Larabee. Knew the drug caused horrific visions and saw the terror in his victim's green eyes. The fear and the pain succeeded in making the prisoner pass out. He reached up and tenderly placed his hand under the strong chin until he was looking into the face he knew so well. "I promise to show you just how much you can take before I take what is rightfully mine, Chris. Sleep for now and gain what little strength you can because our next meeting will involve a little more physical pain." He cleaned the shallow slash he'd made across the taut chest with whiskey before leaving his victim alone once more.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris opened his eyes and groaned as he shifted his arms, taking the weight off his shoulders. The fire no longer blazed and the meager light came from the embers glowing in the small circle of stones. He shifted uneasily, his back stiff and painful as he finally stood up straight. He looked around the cave, wondering if Maguire was hidden in the shadows, watching him, enjoying the discomfort he was in. He shivered as a cold chill wormed its way down his spine.

He didn't know how much time passed since the hallucinations ended. Cold fingers of dread trailed down his spine as he tried to forget the images he'd seen while under the influence of the drug. His stomach churned and his body trembled as one vivid memory returned. Vin Tanner's body dangling at the end of a rope, his bloodied clothing draped down his lifeless body. His blue eyes filled with resentment as his damaged throat cried out his anger at Chris Larabee. He trembled again as the words echoed threw his mind. _'Ya did this ta me, Chris, ya promised I wouldn't hang and then ya ran out on me. I'm dead 'cause of yer cowardice Larabee. Strung up like some mangy dawg. All yer fault ya bastard!'_ The cold dead eyes lacked the luster they held in life and somehow the gunslinger knew he'd never see them again.

"No, Vin, I didn't. I didn't run out on you," his weak voice echoed around the cavern. He coughed against the dryness of his throat, crying out as the movement pulled on his tethered limbs. His body shook as he rode out the pain in his shoulders and back. Breathing deeply, he fought hard to stave off the black curtain. The strong wave of nausea nearly choked him and he lost his battle, his tortured body slumped in defeat.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

"Vin, are you alright?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"It's not me ya gotta worry 'bout, Buck," Tanner answered. "It looks like whoever..."

"What do you mean whoever? I thought we agreed it was Maguire?" Dunne asked.

"Look, JD, Chris has a lot of enemies out there and I think we'd best be ready for anythin'. I think it is Maguire but I want ta be sure. We can't just go inta this thinkin' it's that salesmen. We need ta find 'em and make sure we get Chris back in one piece," the tracker said. He bent low to the ground and found the tracks he was looking for. "Looks like he headed this way," he said and mounted Peso. He could hear the others do the same and he lead them away from his best friend's home. Something was different about the little shack, something he couldn't place his hands on. A shiver of dread ran down his spine as he thought of never sitting on the front porch and sharing a drink with the enigmatic gunslinger.

A drop of rain landed on the tracker's hand and he prayed the rain wouldn't get to the point where it washed away the tracks. '_Please, God, let us find him 'fore it's too late,_' he thought as more drops joined the one rolling down his hand.

Five men with a single purpose rode north away from Four Corners. That purpose was to find their leader and make whoever took him realize the error of their actions. Five sets of eyes glared angrily skywards as the clouds opened up and rain fell heavily around them. Determined to continue they pulled up their collars and hunkered down in their saddles as they raced after the sharpshooter.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Maguire sat on a blanket by the small fire, watching the unconscious man's labored breathing. _'Such perfection,_' he thought. '_He will live on through me. Through you my strength will grow, my life_ _will be extended and I can fulfil my destiny,'_ he smiled at the gunslinger. "Our destiny will be fulfilled and our lives shall be one." He checked the blade of the thin knife in the embers, more than satisfied when he saw the white heat pulsating off the metal. His earlier victims left him with an empty feeling inside, as if they lacked what he needed and their final death throes did nothing to earn them his respect. "You will, won't you, Chris?" he asked, tapping the pale cheek, his finger trailing along the furrow he'd made along Larabee's chest. He pressed firmly and elicited a low moan from the bound man. "It's time to wake up Chris," he whispered in the gunslinger's ear. "It's time to feel the fires of hell, feel them ignite on your bare skin. It's time for you to scream," his soft voice promised. "Oh not the final scream, it's much too early for that, but this will be the first of many screams that will be dragged from your throat."

Larabee opened his eyes and tried to pull away from the hand touching his chest. "B...bastard!" he swore angrily. His weak voice still conveyed the strength of his soul and the promise he'd made earlier. He smiled as he saw the other man flinch slightly. "Will...kill...you," he warned.

Maguire swallowed deeply, amazed that even beaten, whipped and tied up this man still conveyed a strength and determination he'd never seen before. "I'm not afraid, Chris. I'm awed at your strength. I now know I made the right choice!" He once more pulled the scalpel from his pocket and sliced a thin line down the palm of his left hand. He watched as his own crimson fluid ran down his arm before placing the blade at the prisoner's left hand.

Chris felt the blade cut into his palm but didn't make a sound. The pain was minor compared to the other agony in his body. Every fiber of him was repulsed, when the madman sealed their bond in blood.

"Ah, Chris, now we are well and truly joined. Brothers by blood as well as destiny," the evil man laughed as his own blood mixed with Larabee's. "Our lives are forever joined, our souls destined to meet time and again in lifetimes to come." He released the gunslinger's hand and turned back to the fire. "I'm afraid the next part of the ritual is going to hurt you more than it does me."

He watched as the fire sparkled off the edge of the knife the madman pulled from the fire. The blade glowed with its own heat and light as his captor slowly walked towards him. Larabee couldn't help but cringe as the blade was placed before his eyes.

"I can see by the light in your eyes that you've experienced a hot blade before. The beauty of it is that the wounds will be cauterized immediately as long as I don't make them too deep," the face lit up expectantly as he lowered the blade to the gunslinger's abdomen. "Just feel the heat of fire, Chris," he whispered as he slowly, but forcefully drove the blade into the taut flesh of his victim's stomach. His eyes lit up in malicious glee as the bound man cried out.

An intense pain lanced through his stomach, igniting the agony in the rest of his body. He fought to get away, but his struggles were in vain.

Maguire withdrew the blade from the shallow wound and placed it on the writhing man's inner thigh.

Chris felt the fight slowly leaving his body as again and again the grinning man placed the blade against his body.

Maguire continued cutting and burning him at the same time. He knew he had to possess the gunslinger's soul. "Pain is a wonderful way to show a man how much he can take before it breaks him, Chris."

The pain continued, driving Larabee to the brink of madness until the glowing blade lost its heat. Chris sagged against the cords holding his hands, feeling the blood flow freely down his arms. He knew without looking that his wrists were torn and raw from his struggles to get away from the madman before him.

"Was that good for you, Chris?" Maguire's face was filled with awe as he watched the blond man. The resemblance to his first victim, his father, was amazing. The blond hair, the green eyes, the handsome face, the taut muscles were so much like the man who'd beaten him. Yet that was where the similarities ended. Where his father was a cruel, malicious man who enjoyed beating on his son, Chris Larabee was a man with a tortured past. A man who lost his family to a senseless act of a woman whose love he didn't return.

He continued to watch as the green eyes slid closed, knowing that his victim was stronger than most men faced with such loss. He proved that strength time and again by rising above the tragedy. Maguire was able to see the vulnerable side of the man in black the moment he felt those intense green eyes light on him in town. "I'll leave you to reflect on your pain, Chris. I won't even force the Nightshade on you right now because I can see you're in enough pain without it. I'll be back in a couple of hours," he promised.

Larabee watched through hooded eyes as the man left the cavern, leaving him to suffer his pain alone. He looked up at the cords above his head and once more tried to pull his hands free. The only thing he succeeded in doing was cause himself more pain. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift towards exhausted sleep. There was nothing he could do until he rested and let his body regain some strength. '_I'll get you, Maguire,' _he vowed as darkness beckoned once more.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

The Devil's Destiny---6

Rain fell around them, filling each man with a sense of dread as the tracker pulled up in front of an abandoned homestead. They knew there was no way they could continue on, the trail was now wiped away by the heavy rainfall. The sky overhead was devoid of stars as black clouds added to the bleakness in their hearts.

"Vin, there's nothing else we can do until the storm ends," Jackson assured the young sharpshooter, as they pulled in front of the battered barn.

Tanner nodded and slowly dismounted, an icy feeling of impending doom running down his spine. He knew in his heart Maguire was the one who'd taken the gunslinger. He swore under his breath, cursing the rain that usually soothed his own burning soul. The cleanliness he usually felt emanating from the earth after a hardy rainfall was replaced by a feeling of utter helplessness. The tracks they were following would be wiped out. He stood before the doors and let the rain wash over him in an effort to get his mind thinking clearly. Somehow they needed to find Chris Larabee before it was too late.

Buck led his horse into the rundown barn, securing him to one of the posts before leaning his aching head against the animal. _'Dammit, Chris, what's he doing to you?'_ he thought. His mind conjured up images of the other men who'd fallen victim to the so-called salesman. He knew wherever the gunslinger was he was in a great deal of pain. He felt it as easily as if it was his own. They'd been friends a long time and although he didn't share the same strong link as Vin did with Chris, he could still sense when the other man needed him. '_I'll find him, Sarah, don't you worry about that,' _he silently vowed.

Nathan led his horse inside, secured it to the one of the posts, and quickly found a lantern hanging beside the door. He rattled it, surprised to hear oil slosh around in the base. Reaching in his jacket he felt the tin box he kept handy and lit a match. The soft glow from the lantern lit up the debris cluttered shelter. His dark eyes roamed around until they saw a small pile of dry hay in a darkened corner of the rundown barn. He walked towards it and grabbed an armful and placed it before the horses. He watched through tired eyes as each man cared for his animal.

It wasn't long before the horses were settled for the night and the five men headed for the battered house. Buck shoved the door open and stepped inside. Nathan came in behind him holding the lantern high above his head.

The interior of the house was covered in broken furniture and littered with other debris. The bare walls and ceiling were covered in cobwebs. Jackson watched as a spiders shadow grew large in the glare of the lantern's light. He moved further into the room, shaking his head at the boarded windows and the layers of thick dust covering the floors. A small doll sat in one corner, the clothes torn and the eye sockets empty. He stepped forward and picked up the toy. He wondered if somewhere a small child might be wondering where the doll was. He shivered as he looked into the empty sockets as Maguire's dark eyes swam in front of his vision. '_Where are you, Chris,'_ he thought as he dropped the broken form back to the floor.

The others were cold and wet; a fire was needed to take away the chill. Vin Tanner stepped over and investigated the spacious fireplace. His weary blue eyes looked up into the fireplace and made sure the flue was open. Satisfied it wasn't in danger of catching fire he cleared the broken glass and debris from the base. The exhausted tracker silently moved around the room gathering enough of the broken wood to start a small fire. White light bathed the darkness as firelight joined the lantern's tiny flame. He knew by the haggard faces of the four men they wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. He sighed heavily as he thought back on the first day Robert Maguire entered their lives. Chris Larabee's instincts were right about the newcomer and now he was paying the price. One look at Buck's expressive blue eyes told him the ladies man felt the same way.

Standish stood off to one side, hiding the worry that surged through his mind. These new friends showed him there were other things to life besides a sharp con or the nifty turn of a card. Larabee gave him a chance even after he cheated the men in the saloon. He was surprised by the man again when he gave him a second chance at the Seminole village. Since then he swore he would stick with them and do what he could to help. He felt a special bond surrounding them all, molding them into a force to be reckoned with. An intense sense of belonging was what he felt since becoming part of the seven. Something he'd never felt in his life. '_Don't run out on us, Chris, we'll find you and kill that bastard,_' he silently vowed.

JD stood by the boarded window. Growing up in Boston did little to prepare him for the harsh realities of frontier life. In the short span of time he lived in Four Corners he'd seen men killed for little or no reason. He saw families forced from their homesteads by brutal men who cared only about themselves. The six men he worked with were his new family and he hated when one of them was injured. Now Chris was missing and most likely in the hands of a maniacal killer. JD remembered reading about a man who liked to torture others and his body trembled involuntarily. The man was hung for his crimes but there was no way to bring back the victims. The face of the victim he caught a glimpse of floated before his eyes and he closed his eyes to blot out the sight.

"Hey, Kid, are you alright?"

Dunne opened his eyes and looked at the moustached man. He swallowed against a dry throat and slowly nodded his head. "I...I'm fine, Buck," he stammered

"You coulda fooled me," Wilmington smiled thinly.

The easterner turned his face back to the furious storm taking place on the other side of the splintered pane of glass. "How can people hurt each other like that, Buck?" he asked softly.

Wilmington knew the youngest member of the seven was thinking about the article Mary found. He often wondered about the same thing when he came across similar cruelties against man or animal. "I don't know, Kid. Sometimes people are just bad inside and there's nothing anyone can do to stop them. Maguire..."

Dunne's face came up at the name, his youthful eyes brimming with unshed tears. "How could he fool me, Buck! I mean I bought something for Casey off that Bastard!"

"He took us all in, JD. He pulled the wool over our eyes and stabbed us in the heart when we weren't looking..."

"He didn't fool Chris or Vin. I saw the way Chris looked at him. He didn't trust that salesman..."

"JD." Jackson placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You can't blame yourself. Chris wouldn't want you thinking that way. We have to stick together and we'll find him."

"What if Chris is already...?" the Bostonian couldn't finish the sentence.

"Chris ain't dead, Kid." The tracker vowed with a trace of venom.

"How do you know, Vin?" Dunne asked.

" 'cause I can still feel him in here," the sharpshooter touched his heart. "He's out there and he's alive. Maguire's doin' things to 'im and he's hurtin'. Hurtin' bad, but he's waitin' fer us and we ain't gonna let 'im down. Are we?"

"N...no," the kid answered and followed the others to the fireplace. Five sets of eyes gazed intently into the open flames, each man thinking of the missing members of the group. One safe in the town they called home, the other in the hands of a madman.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Maguire stood in front of the window as the horizon brightened with the onset of dawn. He was eager to see his victim, to share more of his own life with him. The time of reckoning was almost on hand and he would own the unownable. He wanted Larabee ready for his death. His plans would take place on the anniversary of the death of his first victim. "Two days, Chris, two days."

He turned back to the table and picked up the bottle containing the remaining drug from the Nightshade plant. He lifted the bottle, grateful that one of his victims was a well known chemist in the east. The man's disappearance nearly cost Maguire his life, but he'd managed to escape before the noose tightened around his neck. He felt the lingering scar made by the coarse rope and smiled. The two men who decided they could take matters into their own hands were feeding vultures in the dessert. Their bones picked raw by the carnivorous birds as the sun baked whatever flesh remained.

A sardonic smile twisted the corners of his mouth. He glanced around the cabin, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the smell emanating from the back room. He placed the dead members of the family in there, but now the stink was overwhelming. He realized his mistake too late and now refused to go into the room. The door was closed, but it didn't stop the sickly smell of rotting flesh from reaching the well kept living room.

Maguire hurried to the front door and pulled it open. He breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of rain drenched soil as he sat on the porch. He looked at the bottle in his hand; his eyes grew serious as he looked towards the trail leading to the cave. '_Today marks the_ _beginning of the end,_' he thought.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris Larabee was no fool. He knew he had to escape before Maguire returned. His body was rapidly weakening and pain seemed a natural state for him now. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt swollen. He knew his tormentor could return at any minute and tried to concentrate on making good his escape.

He struggled against the bonds, unable to remember how many times he tried the same thing. His fingers were numb and his wrists stung as the cords continued to dig deeper. "SON OF A BITCH!" he shouted in frustration as he lost the little strength he had. He hung in the darkness, alone, and in misery.

He wondered how much time passed since he became a victim of Robert Maguire's twisted mind. Hours, days, or weeks; there was no way for him to tell. His eyes closed and his mind drifted to the day they'd come together as a group.

Vin Tanner, was an ex bounty hunter with a price on his head. A man who grew up fast and hard, but still refused to become a victim. If eyes were the windows to the soul then Vin's soul had a space reserved for it amongst the angels. The young man gave his friendship and trust to him with a simple nod of his head. He hoped and prayed he'd feel that simple method of communication once more.

Josiah Sanchez, was an ex-preacher with a troubled past. He was a hard man to read and still refused to share much about himself. Chris respected that. He knew what it felt like to have others speak of your private life. Even with the little he knew of the man he felt he could be trusted.

Buck Wilmington, a man he knew from his younger, rowdier days. The days before Sarah entered his life and showed him what it meant to have a family. Buck stood up for him at his wedding and was there when his life crumbled. The ladies man held him back when he would've thrown himself into the flames. He knew in his heart he was too late, but Buck was there to save him. He cursed his tall friend high and low, blaming him for not letting him join his family in their fiery death. He regretted pushing Buck out of his life. Regretted losing the one living reminder of the happiness he'd shared with Sarah and Adam. A smile crossed his pale face as he remembered discovering his friend was in Four Corners. Their friendship was back and stronger than ever.

Nathan Jackson was an ex-slave and Union stretcher bearer. The healer skill was short changed in that he wasn't a real doctor, his skin color made that difficult. Chris knew in his heart this was true. He prayed someday people would get past their prejudices, and see beyond skin color or religion. Nathan's hands were strong and skilled; Chris Larabee trusted them further than any doctor with a degree on his wall.

Ezra Standish was a gambler with a penchant for cheating. A shrewd manueverer who could con a blind man into buying a book, a man who was still trying to get out from under his Mother's influences. Chris saw beyond the cheating gambler facade. He glimpsed the man Ezra really was, someone he would trust to watch his back now that they understood each other. He remembered the day at the Seminole Village. The words he grated out in anger and frustration. '_Don't ever run out on me again,'_ he thought, and although he'd been tempted the gambler stood with them time and again.

Chris felt a small smile forming as he thought of the youngest member of the group. JD Dunne arrived on the stage, carrying nothing but his saddle. The kid had something to prove from the very beginning. The fancy clothing on the young Bostonian shouted that he was a greenhorn, a tenderfoot and new to the ways of the west. At the Seminole village, the youth proved he was willing to do anything to protect his friends.

Larabee pushed himself to a standing position, taking the weight off his shoulders once more. The dampness of the cave coupled with his lack of clothing caused shivers to course through his body. Somehow he was going to stay alive for them. There was no way he was going to let them find his dead body, strung up in a cave.

The darkness was so complete he couldn't see his own body. As the pain pulsed, his eyes narrowed; a distinct sound told him that his tormentor was back He fought to keep his trembling body from reacting in anticipation. A spark of light forced his eyes closed.

"The time of reckoning is almost at hand, Chris," Maguire said as he lit the fire. "This will not be a long visit. I've come with food and water for you. Just a little of each. Enough to keep you alive a little longer. This food is safe," he explained as he poured a thin broth into a pot. "...for now." he teased of the drug to be given later. "Right now I think it's time you understood who I am and why you were chosen."

Larabee listened to the hated figure, the words grating on his frazzled nerves. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and let the all encompassing anger come to the front. He gripped the cords around his wrists and snapped them.

Maguire watched the face as new emotions overrode the ones he wanted to see. Instead of pain and weariness, newfound fire blazed in the twin green beacons. He wanted this man's soul. However the eyes he looked into now seemed a harbinger of hatred and the promise of suffering. He held the look as long as he could, but was forced to turn away as the blond's gaze never wavered.

Shaking off the nervous tension, the serial killer picked up the thin broth and walked towards his near naked victim. "I have something for you."

"D...drink it yourself," Larabee hissed forcefully.

"It's only broth, Chris. It really won't hurt you. I want to tell you something about myself before I send you on another trip. Now, please tell me I don't have to resort to force feeding you again?"

The prisoner's eyes remained focused on his tormentor. His breathing was shallow as he realized there was nothing he could do to stop Maguire from forcing the liquid down his throat. He clamped his mouth shut in an effort to stop the other man, knowing to give in would be admitting the enemy controlled everything about him.

"So be it, Chris," Maguire forced the head back, pinching the nose and forcing the salty liquid into the injured gunman.

Dark spots swam before his eyes as he fought to keep from drinking. The gunslinger tried not to swallow, but eventually the need to breathe won out. As the last of the broth flowed down his throat he filled his lungs over and over with air.

"I didn't lie, Chris, it's only broth. Do you want a little water?"

"D...don't w...want anything f...from you," he snarled as his chest heaved painfully.

"Have it your way for now," Maguire walked back to the fire, warding off the chill of the cave. He opened a bottle of whiskey and took a sip. "You really should have accepted this bottle that day on the trail. It would've been the last bottle of your life. Oh, well, I guess I'll have to enjoy it myself."

Larabee watched as the whiskey disappeared from the bottle. His body craved the soothing alcohol, but he refused to let this man see it. He let his eyes slide shut and prayed the others would find him soon. He knew the salesman would kill him soon, but until then he'd keep his wits about him and try to escape.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

The Devil's Destiny---7

Vin saddled Pony as the sun showed its rays above the horizon. The rain stopped shortly after dawn and he knew they needed to get moving. Something was driving him northwards, telling him that time was running out for Chris Larabee. He recalled the day they met on the street and with just a slight nod moved to save a man's life. A man neither of them knew at the time, but grew to respect as a healer and an individual.

That same link was affecting him now. There was no way he could explain it and if asked he'd probably deny it existed. His time among the Indians was well spent and he learned things didn't always come with an explanation. This was one of those things and he prayed it would not desert him now. He tightened the cinch around Peso and looked at his companions.

"The tracks have been wiped out, Vin," Wilmington observed.

"I know," Tanner muttered.

"Should we split up?" Dunne asked.

"No," the tracker's voice was adamant as he looked at each man, stopping when his gaze landed on the Ladies man. The trust the blue eyes conveyed with just a look was enough for Vin to tell them what he felt. "We keep going north."

Wilmington nodded, trusting in the sharpshooter's special friendship with the gunslinger to find him. He knew there was something special between the two men from the moment he saw them together on the boardwalk. He trusted Vin with his life and now he was trusting him with the life of Chris Larabee. "Mount up," he ordered softly.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

"Josiah?"

Sanchez looked up from the bible he was trying to read. His mind kept wandering and he knew it was a lost cause. He smiled as Mary Travis walked into the small church. "Is there something I can do for you, Mary?"

"I just wondered if there was any word from the others?"

"Nothing yet, Mary."

"I've found out a couple of other things about Maguire. It seems his father disappeared under strange circumstances," her soft eyes were filled with anger as she looked at the ex-preacher. "How could we not have seen who he really was?"

"He had us all fooled. From what the article says he's been doing this a long time. He really did work for that catalogue company. Unfortunately it went out of business years ago. It belonged to his father."

"I should've checked into it more. Chris didn't seem to like him much."

"Chris has an uncanny sense when it comes to trusting people." He watched the shoulders slump and the eyes mist with tears. "Mary, you had no way of knowing." Sanchez wrapped his arms around the sobbing woman, holding her close as she cried for the man she'd grown so fond of. He knew there were feelings between her and Chris Larabee, yet neither one would admit to them. 'Don't let it be too late for them, Lord,' he silently prayed.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

"I chose you because you met my eyes the day I came in Four Corners. You refused to look away. I felt that strength and pride you have. Your unmitigated gall intrigued me. No one has ever been able to stare me down since I killed the bastard who called himself my father, but you did it that day. You know your abilities and you refuse to bow down to anyone. Oh, don't get me wrong. If it was just that I would've left you alone. I never would've stayed in your quaint little town." He picked up the half bottle of whiskey and walked towards his victim. "So I guess you've made your own fate. You should've turned away. Instead you showed me my twin spirit. I could've been like you, you know. I could've given up the life I chose and married a beautiful woman, but my father kept taunting me. Kept telling me I had to fulfil my destiny. He looked a lot like you, Chris. The same hair color, the same green eyes, he even had the same build, although he probably had a few pounds on you," Maguire guzzled down more of the whiskey as he studied the gunslinger. "He used to beat me all the time. He told me it was for my own good."

Larabee listened to the droning voice, ignoring the faint ray of sympathy he felt for a child who'd been beaten. He remembered his own childhood and how he'd been beaten, sometimes unjustly, yet he overcame those obstacles. "Y...you didn't have to..."

"To what? Turn out like my father? Is that what you were gonna say, Chris?" Maguire asked, continuing before the other man could answer. "I didn't turn out like my father…I turned out better, stronger, and smarter. I showed my father how pathetic he was when I took his soul. The only problem was I killed the son-of-a-bitch too soon. I should've made him suffer. Maybe he would've prevented all of this if I'd heard him scream. You'll do that though, Chris. You'll scream with your dying breath and I'll be waiting for you. I've been keeping a journal over the years. I've sent it to a friend of mine. She'll keep it and my boy safe until the day I come for them. I'll be able to teach him everything I know when he's old enough. If anything happens to me before you die then he'll have my diary to guide him through his life."

"Kid d...deserves b...better...father," the gunslinger muttered tiredly. His head reeled backwards as a devastating right fist connected with his left cheek. He tasted blood in his mouth and knew the inside of his cheek was cut by his teeth.

"Don't you ever say that again. My boy will know how much he means to me. He'll know I'm doing this for him. I'll make sure of that and I won't leave him alone so some woman can burn him alive." He knew his words were vicious and he grinned as he walked back to the fire. "The truth hurts doesn't it, Larabee. You know it's all your fault that your family is dead. You see I did my homework on you. I found out just what I needed to confirm that you were the right one. You fought against evil and won, but that was before you met me. It's time for you to take another trip. I hope you get to relive their final moments. I hope you hear them scream as the fire burns them alive in its unholy heat." He grabbed a fistful of dirty blond hair and twisted it painfully. "I hope you enjoy yourself, Chris."

The captive felt the brackish liquid flow down his throat as he tried to pull away. Maguire's strong hands held him tightly as the last of the fire burned down his throat. A hand clamped tightly over his mouth and nose and he nearly passed out.

Maguire released his hold on the gunslinger and stood back to watch. The green eyes seemed to lose focus as harsh retching sounds emanated from his victim's throat. He moved out of the way and waited for the vomiting to pass. He knew the affects of the Nightshade would linger even though most of it was purged from the gunslinger's body. His eyes glistened smugly as he walked towards the entrance. "Enjoy your trip down memory lane, Chris. I'll be back tomorrow."

Larabee's eyes focused on something only he could see…the barn, the barely moving windmill, the panicked horses, and the blazing fire that was his home. He bolted off his horse and ran for the burning house. Strong hands grasped his arms and wrestled him to the ground. His eyes widened as two flame engulfed figures stepped from the devastation. "Sarah! Adam! NO!" He fought with all his strength to get away from the strength he found himself embraced in. Words were shouted in his ears, but he chose to ignore them in his haste to save his heart and soul. The two figures screamed and fire shot from their dying mouth as Chris Larabee's final scream erupted in the lighted cavern. He slid towards unconsciousness, damning Maguire's name for all eternity.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Maguire grinned as the anguished cry reached his ears. He placed the brush and rocks back in place, covering the entrance but only muffling the cries of pain from within.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Wilmington pulled his horse to a halt. His eyes shifted left and right as he fought back the memories. He had no idea why his mind was conjuring up images from years ago. Images of fire, death and pain. The fight to keep his friend from dying with his family. Knocking the blond out in order to keep him from running into the flames. He shivered as he remembered the pain in those green eyes and the anger and hurt on the handsome face. His head shot up as he realized he'd heard the blond's cries. Heard him call out for Sarah and Adam, yet it was impossible. He watched as three men rode on but one stopped and turned to him.

"Buck?"

"Vin, I heard him. I don't mean out loud. I heard him in here," Wilmington pointed to his head. "He's dying, Vin, we gotta find him."

"I know. I feel it too. We have ta keep searchin'. He's close by."

"Vin, Buck, is everything all right?"

Wilmington looked at the healer and then back to the tracker. "I...I don't know, Nathan. I just had a bad feeling."

"I think we all did," Standish observed of his companions' pale faces. Without a word the five men returned to the task of finding Chris Larabee.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

The prisoner opened his eyes to complete, utter darkness. There was no warmth left inside the cavern and he knew the fire must've been out for a long time. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't obey his commands. The memories brought on by the drug Maguire forced on him ravaged his heart. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he thought about the night his life was shattered. He recalled the angry words and names he shouted at Buck Wilmington. He knew his oldest friend was suffering through his own pain and guilt that night, but it didn't matter at the time. Chris needed to hurt someone and he was the only one there. "I'm sorry, Buck," he whispered into the darkness. His body shuddered and he knew death was coming. It surprised him that he didn't want to give into its call. His eyes slid closed and his body sagged against the cords. Fresh blood trickled from his wrists, but he'd already surrendered to the darkness surrounding him.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Maguire wrinkled his nose as he sat on the chair by the open window. The smell of decay surrounded him and he knew the time was at hand. Chris Larabee would soon be released from the hell he lived on earth. He sighed as he looked at the shiny blade in his hand. The Scalpel served him well, but for the next stage in the game it wouldn't do. His bare hands would be the only thing used to bring on that final, soul wrenching scream. The one that would end his own search for his destiny. The one that would seal his fate with the devil. He looked at the cut on his hand, frowning at the swelling he saw there. He knew it was infected, yet he felt no pain, no horror. He knew once Larabee was dead all his mortal wounds would be healed. An insane smile slowly washed over his face as he stood up and left the farmhouse for his final journey with destiny.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

They spent a restless night, each man wondering whether they'd find their friend alive. The words Mary Travis read them reverberated through their minds. Whipped, burned, and cut, that's what the papers said. Somehow they knew Chris was suffering from the same fate in the hands of a maniac. They were up before dawn; horses saddled and ready to move out before the first rays of the sun made waste to the darkness of night.

Vin searched the ground. They were travelling steadily northwards, scanning for any sign of Maguire. His feeling were confirmed earlier in the day when he'd found a distinctive mark in the hard packed soil. The hot mid day sun dried the tracks and made it easy to read. The tracker knew the markings and knew they'd found the wagon Chris was using to transport lumber for the repairs to the shed.

"Has your perusal of the ground established whether or not we are searching in the right direction?" Standish asked.

Vin and the others knew Ezra Standish hid behind five dollar words. He used them from their first meeting, hoping to distance himself from the men he worked with. Little by little the six men wormed their way into his life. They were his family and although he tried to hide it he cared what happened to them.

"Looks like he came this way. Those tracks match the ones belonging to the one Chris borrowed from Yosemite," Tanner told them. He remounted Peso and headed the horse in a northerly direction once more, four men followed anxious to find their missing member.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Maguire pulled the wagon up to the entrance to the cave. He looked into the back of the wagon, smiling at the things he'd placed there. The family he killed provided well. He now had food enough to last him through his trip back east. He wanted to be with his son, to teach him the strengths of a man and how important it was to complete one's path in life.

He reached into the back of the wagon and picked up a crystal lantern. He lifted the glass dome and touched a match to its wick. He walked towards the entrance to the mine, a slight upwards slant of his mouth did nothing to take away from the evil glint in the hard eyes.

"Are you awake, Chris?" he asked as he entered the cavern. The only answer to reach his ears was the painful wheezing breath of the man he owned. He lifted the lantern and let its faint light illuminate the man hanging from the ceiling of the cavern. Blood, dirt and sweat mingled on his ravaged torso, arms and legs. "The time is at hand, Chris. It's time for both of us to seek out and find our destiny," a small laugh left his throat. "Neither one of us has far to look."

The tortured man slowly became aware of a pinpoint of white light before his eyes. Shadows formed around it and he tried to make them out. He took shallow breaths in an effort to ease the tight feeling in his chest. He'd been coughing up crud and knew he was dangerously close to pneumonia, but still he couldn't give up. He heard one of the moving shadows speaking and tried to understand what was being said. A face swam before his own and he looked into the reality of his destiny. He knew this man would kill him; there was no doubt of that now. His hands were numb, his legs felt like rubber and his body felt on fire. There wasn't an inch that didn't hurt, a part of him that didn't understand how painful his death would be. He wouldn't give in easily, but he knew this man would do his damndest to make him scream. Biting back the pain and the fear he looked into the eyes of his personal demon.

Chris Larabee was not a man to give up and with the last ounce of strength he could muster he snarled, "I'll see you in Hell, Maguire, and I'll make you pay for all eternity."

Robert Maguire was unable to keep the fear from entering his eyes. This man still held more fight in him than all his precious victims combined. He had no doubt if he were to release him, Chris Larabee would make good on his threat. He moved away from his victim before the man could read his fear and see the tremble in his legs. He placed wood in the small circle of ashes and lit it. Firelight sprang forth and forced back the demonic shadows. He waited until his trembling subsided and the slight fear dissolved. Taking a deep breath he turned back to his prisoner. "Are you strong enough to meet me in hell, Chris?"

Larabee glared through glazed eyes, the power behind his force shining through in the deep emotional stare. "Strength has n...nothing to do with it, Maguire. It's w...what's in my h...heart and the hearts of my f...friends that will stop y...you. I have no p...problem with d...dying, but I will not help you meet your d...destiny."

"You may say that, Chris, but you won't have a choice." He reached into his pocket and slowly withdrew a silver flask.

The light glinting off the flask reminded Chris of Ezra Standish, the enigmatic gambler always had his flask handy.

Maguire grabbed a handful of blond hair, tilting the head backwards once more. He forced the gunslinger's mouth open and force fed him the water.

The captive coughed in order to rid his body of the familiar tasting liquid. The nightshade drug raced through his body, but not to the point where he was sick. His vision blurred but soon righted itself and his eyes once more focused on his hated enemy. "Y...you're a d...dead man!" he growled through his burning throat.

"No, Chris, you are!" with those softly spoken words, Chris Larabee knew his torment was about to get worse.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

The Devil's Destiny---8

"There's a house just ahead," Dunne called over his shoulder. They'd been riding steadily harder, each man scenting the unseen blood trail that would lead them to Robert Maguire and eventually Chris Larabee.

They rode into the yard, their eyes flashing around the area in search of movement.. There was no activity in the house, barn, or surrounding grounds. The five men dismounted and moved to search the area. Buck and JD headed for the barn, Ezra, Nathan, and Vin moved towards the house.

Buck carefully opened the heavy doors and moved inside, JD close at his heels. They searched the stalls, finding two horses and a cow, her utters heavy with milk. JD moved to the hayloft and climbed the ladder. The musty smell of hay greeted his nostrils as his head moved past the floor. Nothing moved in the loft and JD backed carefully down the rungs.

"Anything?" Wilmington asked, moving towards another closed in area.

"Nothing," JD answered dejectedly.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Nathan reached out and grabbed the sharpshooter's arm before he opened the door. "Do you smell that?"

"Smells like something dead," Tanner observed flatly. He noticed the strong odor as soon as they came abreast of the house. Thoughts of finding Chris Larabee's dead body crossed his mind but he didn't give voice to those thoughts.

"Surely you don't think it's Mr... think it's Chris?" Standish stumbled over his words.

"Chris ain't dead, Ez. If he was I'd know it," the sharpshooter assured the gambler. He opened the door and the odor became cloying in the sickening heat of the interior. Vin pulled a bandana from around his neck and held it over his mouth and nose. They entered the house, their eyes raking over the damaged furniture, the torn clothing, broken dishes and rotted food.

Nathan moved to the center of the room and knelt beside a brown stain. "Blood," he mumbled as he watched the sharpshooter walk towards one of the doors, Standish headed for the second one.

The gambler's stomach churned at the grizzly sight revealed by the open door. He gagged and turned away, tears in his eyes as he looked at the healer. "Mr. Jackson, I believe I have discovered the reason for the..." he didn't have to finish as Jackson stood beside him.

Nathan was transported back to his days as a stretcher bearer. The sight before him made his heart lurch and his stomach churn. Four bloodstained bodies lay in a crumpled heap in the center of the room. The stench assaulted their nostrils and caused nausea to build inside them. Nathan held the bandana over his mouth and nose and forced himself to walk into the room. He felt dizzy, yet he knew he had to make sure. "They've been dead at least a couple of days," he informed his friends. "Looks like someone just kept firing at them," he said as he noted the multiple bullet wounds in the bodies.

"Nathan?" Tanner said softly.

"What?"

"We can come back ta bury them. We really need ta find Chris."

"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Tanner," Standish's voice was muffled through the silk bandana he held over his face.

"Nathan, Vin, Ezra, where... Oh, God," Dunne cried, rushing from the room as bile filled his mouth.

"JD!" Buck exclaimed as the young Bostonian rushed past him. He didn't need an explanation once he looked into the room. His own stomach kicked at him and he fought down the nausea. "Oh, Hell," he swore. "Is Ch...?"

"He's not here," Tanner assured him. He took one last look at the family, said a silent prayer and turned to his friends. He knew in his heart they deserved a proper burial, but it would have to wait until they tended the living and he was sure Chris Larabee was still among them. "Let's see if'n we can pick up the trail. It looks like Maguire was stayin' here so Chris can't be far." He hurried from the room and out in the yard. His eyes fell on the youngest member of the group. The kid was splashing water from a hand pump, swiping his hands across his too pale face. "Are ya alright, JD?"

"F...fine, Vin."

"We're gonna go find, Chris. Ya ok ta ride." He smiled as the kid nodded once. Vin searched the ground until he found the tracks leading out of the yard.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris followed his tormentor as the man slowly circled him. He felt a hand on his back and cringed as the man slowly raked his nails down the lash marks. His shoulders slumped as a hand came down full force on the open wounds.

"You see, Chris, all it takes is for me to use my hands, my bare fists and sooner or later as the bones," he walked around to the front and drew back his fist, driving it into Larabee's already battered ribs. "Break," he finished as he heard the barely audible crack. He pulled back the opposite fist and did the same to the left side. This time eliciting a small cry from the injured man.

"B...bastard," the blond hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sh, Chris, that's not what I want to hear." Maguire circled again and threw a punch to his captive's lower back, over and over he struck, grinning as the cries of pain grew louder. Mottled blues, purples and blacks soon covered the gunslingers back from hip to hip. "Are you still with me, Chris?"

"G...go...t...'ell," Larabee gasped, pain lending strength to his words.

Maguire moved to stand in front of the injured man once more. Using his open hands he slapped the pale cheeks, gaining momentum as Larabee glared at him through pain filled eyes. "You will scream for me, Chris."

"N...no...n...never...h...pen," Larabee swore as his head lolled forward on his chest. His eyes were quickly losing focus as the mild dose of the nightshade drug began to take hold. Demons danced before his eyes, bloody corpses dressed in confederate soldier's uniform cursed him from beyond the grave. His stomach lurched, but there was nothing in it for him to lose.

Maguire grinned as dry heaves plagued his victim, causing him to cry out in distress. "We're close, Chris, real close. I can feel your strength leaving you. Pretty soon you won't care what I do as long as the pain and torment ends."

"N...n...no..." his weak voice lacked the confidence it once held as Maguire's fist connected with the right side of his chest. Fresh blood welled up from the long gash the insane man inflicted two days before. "V...V...Vin," he hissed as the battering assault continued. "B...B...Buck...will come..."

"They'll come, Chris, but when they do they'll find an empty shell. Your soul will be mine. They'll be left with your empty carcass." He stopped long enough to take a drink before moving to stand in front of his victim once more. His hand formed a fist and he pulled it back.

Chris knew the end was near, there was little doubt he was going to die. This man proved he was a master at pain and it was only a matter of time until his body could take no more. "S...sorry, Boys, c...can't w...wait much l...longer. N...need help," he mumbled as blood spilled from his split lip.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Vin followed the tracks, his stomach churning as he realized time was of the essence. He could feel the hopelessness of his friend. The desperate plea for help, the steel strength being sapped from the lean body. He spurred Peso in an effort to move faster, unaware the others were doing the same thing.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Josiah knelt in his church, his eyes closed, his eyes raised to the heavens. "Lord, I know I haven't done my penance for the wrongs I've done in this world, but I need your help now more than ever. Chris is a good man, although he's done things he regrets. He's been doing your work, Lord, maybe not the way you wanted it done, but he's doing good. This town's been cleaned up quite a bit since you saw fit to band the seven of us together. I'm praying for some of your Divine intervention in finding our friend. Don't let that...that madman do what he did to his other victims. Give Chris Larabee the strength he needs to hang on," he lapsed into silence as he struggled with his own wayward soul.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Tanner was the first to dismount in front of the familiar wagon. He was soon joined by four others and by silent agreement a search began. The area around the wagon was filled with fresh footprints and they had little trouble finding then opening in the rock.

"He's here," Tanner hissed, drawing his gun. "JD, Nathan, you stay out here in case there's trouble."

Nathan knew he was asking him to stay outside because of his medical knowledge. They all knew Chris would need his help once they got him away from Maguire. He simply nodded and stood to the side of the entrance.

JD wanted to protest, but when none was forthcoming from the healer he also remained silent.

"Buck, Ezra, follow me and keep an eye out."

Nathan and JD watched as the three men silently disappeared into the absolute darkness of the cave.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7 **

Chris felt the scream building, but fought against it as he lifted his head to meet the madman's eyes.

"You're ready, Chris. I feel it and so do you. Stop fighting what is rightfully ours. You'll be stronger for it and live on through me," Maguire's eyes were filled with a lunacy even the devil would have cringed at. He felt the strength of his destiny and still the younger man held on, waiting for a rescue that would not happen.

"N...NO! MY SOUL IS MY OWN YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Larabee screamed, a soul shattering scream, one that would echo in the hearts of the men entering the cavern. Later they would wonder how the injured man was able to curse the madman in spite of his weakened body.

"Get away from him you sick bastard," Wilmington screamed as he entered the cavern, Tanner and Standish flanking him.

Maguire heard the words and knew he'd waited too long. He didn't take the time to turn and face the newcomers. He knew they would kill him for what he'd done to their friend. An evil leer lit his face as his hand slid slowly into his pocket. "They can't save you, Chris," he vowed. "We will die together, our destiny made whole even in death."

"NO!" Tanner lifted his mare's leg, knowing Chris's life depended on his accuracy with the weapon. As Maguire's hand came up, a shot, deadly in its intensity, reverberated off the walls.

Chris watched through slitted eyes as Maguire's mouth came open in surprise, the silver object in his hand glittering as it dropped from his grip.

"N...no...can't...take...away...our...destiny."

"You lose," Larabee cried as his body sagged against the cords. He felt strong hands reach for him as nightmare visions slowly invaded his sense. He fought against the cords and the hands as Maguire's drug once more caught up to him.

"Easy, Chris, we got ya," Tanner explained, his soft Texas drawl cutting through the hallucinations running through the victim's mind. He tried to be gentle as Wilmington took over holding the body. He watched Standish move in on the opposite side, ready and willing to help get the injured man down as easily as possible. He stopped as a low rumbling sounded overhead. "Buck! We gotta do this quick. Sounds like this place's ready ta come down aroun' us."

"Do it, Vin! I got him," Wilmington held on tightly as Tanner cut through the cords holding his friend to the hook. He heard the soft cries from his friend as the sharpshooter lowered the injured man's arm over his head. "Get his feet!" he shouted as dirt and rocks began to fall around them.

"Got it!" Standish snapped as he cut through the cord around Larabee's ankles.

Wilmington lifted the body of his friend into his arms, hugging him tight to his chest. The three men ran from the cave, oblivious of the danger climbing off the ground behind them.

His head felt like it was ready to explode and he wanted to stay where he was, but his destiny was being pulled from his reach. "C...can't let them t...take you," he picked up the scalpel and stumbled after the retreating figures. "He has to scream," he muttered as blood ran from the deep gouge on his forehead.

Nathan watched as Ezra Standish ran from the opening, dust billowing up behind him.

"Get back it's going to collapse," Standish shouted as two more figures came running out.

Jackson knew who Buck was carrying despite his near naked attire. He swore under his breath as he hurried towards them. He turned back to the cave as a loud earth-shattering scream rent the air.

"NO! You can't have him!" Maguire shouted as he ran for the entrance.

Five pairs of eyes watched as the entrance to the cave was obliterated by a mountain of earth sliding down the hillside. They watched as the madman was buried beneath the dirt and debris.

Nathan shook his head and tried to hide the fear he knew was evident in his healer eyes. "Vin, Ezra, get me some blankets. JD, get a fire going. Buck, just hold him still for a minute."

"B...Buck..."

Tears shone in the eyes of the ladies man as he looked into the glazed green eyes of his friend. "Yeah, Pard, I got ya."

"M...Maguire?" the injured man rasped, his breathing labored as air struggled to gain access to his lungs.

"He's dead," Wilmington assured him as he watched Standish and Tanner spread out the blankets.

"G...guess I w...wasn't h...his d...destiny..." Larabee laughed weakly, the laughter quickly turning into harsh coughing.

"Easy, Chris," Wilmington, a man known to his friends as someone whose heart was bigger than most, let a single tear fall from his eyes. He gently placed the battered body on the ground. "Vin, get that fuckin' rope off his arms," he swore in words dripping venom.

Tanner knelt beside Larabee and reached for his hunting knife. He slid it between the other man's blood stained wrists, slicing through the cords while Wilmington held onto the arms.

Jackson forced his emotions aside, knowing Larabee's life depended on how well he used what little medical knowledge he had. "Ezra, you and JD see if you can find me water. Lots of it. Buck, get some water boiling. Vin, talk to him. Let him know we're here." The healer stood up and hurried to his horse.

"Hey, Cowboy," Tanner slid down beside his friend and lifted the blond head onto his lap. The green eyes opened as the chest rose and fell. The raspy wheezing scared the sharpshooter, he'd heard it before and knew the sounds of pneumonia when he heard it

"V...Vin, I...I knew y...you a...all w...would...come," he dissolved into a fit of coughing again and wrapped his arms around his chest.

Vin watched his friend's feeble efforts to lift his arm only to have them drop back down as his strength left him. "I got ya, Chris, ya jest lie still 'ntil Nathan gets through with ya. He's gonna make sure ya get better." A small sound left Larabee's lips and Vin recognized it as laughter. "What's funny, Cowboy?"

"L...lotta work," Larabee hissed painfully.

"Chris."

The gunslinger forced his head to turn to the new voice. "N...Nathan."

"I want you to drink some of this," Jackson explained. He held a tin cup to his friend's lips and let him take small sips. The cracked lips told Jackson the man was dangerously close to dehydration. "That's enough for now, Chris, I want you to stay still and save your energy. I got some work to do and it's gonna hurt some."

"Always h...hurts, Nathan. N...not your fault," Larabee muttered as his body went still in the sharpshooter's arms.

"Nathan!"

Jackson felt the gunslinger's neck and breathed a sigh of relief. "He's still with us, Vin. I don't know how but he's still here."

"Nathan, I got all the water we have boiling."

"All right, Buck. See if there's anything in the back of that wagon I can use for bandages."

"Thought you brought some with you?"

Jackson looked up into the eyes of the ladies man, his own dark eyes filled with unshed moisture. "I didn't bring enough, Buck," he hissed sharply. He turned back to the job ahead of him, trying, but failing miserably to ignore the fact he was working on a friend. A friend whose very life depended on every ounce of knowledge he had. "Vin, hold him still while I check him out."

"I got him, Nathan," the sharpshooter murmured softly.

Jackson nodded and slowly ran his hands along the injured man's neck and shoulders. As gently as possible he moved down the bruise darkened torso, stopping when his light touch elicited a low moan from the gunslinger. "Sorry, Chris," he mumbled and continued his examination. He sat back on his heels as he finished checking for broken bones.

"Nathan?" Buck asked as he tore a clean linen towel in strips.

"He's got some broken ribs on both sides and from the sounds of his breathing pneumonia's close to setting in. If it gets too strong a hold on his lungs I don't think I'll be able to help him." Jackson shook his head, the burden heavy on his shoulders. "He's hurt so much I don't know where to start. I...I..."

Tanner reached out and grabbed the healer's hand, waiting for the dark eyes to meet his own. When they finally did he spoke softly. "Nathan, we know ye'll do everything ya can. He's got...we got...faith in ya."

Jackson swallowed deeply, gathered the courage he didn't know he possessed and turned back to the man he owed his life too. He was shocked to see the pain filled, fever bright eyes gazing at him.

"T...trust you, N...Nathan," the gunslinger hissed painfully.

"Thanks, Chris. I'm gonna clean you up and see exactly what that madman did to ya. I'm gonna give you a little laudanum to help ease some of the pain. It's not gonna be much 'cause you're close to pneumonia and this stuff affects the breathing. I'm sorry, Chris," Jackson explained, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"I's o...okay..." Larabee groaned as Tanner lifted his head. He gratefully accepted the small dose of laudanum and tried to assure the healer he understood.

"What do you want me to do, Nathan?" Wilmington asked.

"Help me clean him up. Vin, you stay where you are. Chris, I'm sorry."

"D...don't, N...Nathan. D...don't blame you." The injured man read the hurt harbored in the soulful brown eyes of the healer.

Jackson nodded once and turned to Wilmington. "Bring over the water."

"I found a basin in the wagon," the ladies man explained as he hurried to get the warm water. It wasn't long before he knelt next to the wheezing man and wet one of the clothes.

Chris felt every touch. The cold water seeping into the wounds, cleaning them, yet causing so much pain. He felt a strong hand slip into his own and held tightly to the younger man's offering. He kept his eyes on the tracker's face as the dirt was cleaned from the numerous wounds covering the front of his body. He cried out when Jackson touched the long gash on his chest.

"Sorry," the healer apologized as he carefully cleaned the reddened area. _'Infected,'_ he mouthed to the worried Texan. While Buck continued to clean the wounds he proceeded to drain the bloodied pus from the wound. The heat emanating from the injured man scared Jackson beyond words, but he refused to give voice to those worries. "Buck, change the water," he urged as he noted the crimson dirt colored water.

By the time Wilmington returned with the fresh water, Ezra and JD also found their way back. The look on the newcomers' faces told Tanner they'd been unsuccessful in finding more water.

"I'm afraid there's no water, Mr. Jackson," Standish explained, watching the men clean Larabee's wounds.

"What are those?" JD's horrified voice asked as he pointed out the numerous tiny wounds dotting his mentor's bruised body.

"The bastard cut him and burned him at the same time, Kid, probably used some kinda knife," Wilmington explained, cleaning the gash on the muscled thigh.

"I need more water!" Jackson hissed in frustration. He knew it was imperative they clean the wounds of infection.

Larabee opened his eyes at the anguished cry from the healer. He lifted heavy arms and grasped the other man by the forearm. "It's okay, N...Nathan," he whispered as his eyes closed and he surrendered to the small amount of laudanum and his weakened body.

"What do we do, Mr. Jackson?"

Jackson continued to clean the man's injuries, praying that something would come to mind. "I don't know. We need to get him somewhere that I can clean him up and tend him properly.

"Nathan, what if we emptied the wagon and brought him back to that farm?" Dunne asked.

"Can we chance the trip?" Standish asked.

"Can we not chance it is a better question. We need to get him cleaned up and there's not enough water here to do it. He also needs to rest and that's not gonna happen out here. I think JD's idea is the best thing we can do," Jackson explained. "Ezra, you and JD empty the wagon. Place as many blankets on the floorboards as you can. Buck, get as much of him washed up as you can," the healer continued to clean the upper body. Once he was finished he turned to the two men beside him. "I'm gonna need to see to his back. Buck, you help, Vin hold him on his side for me."

"All right, Nathan," Wilmington helped ease the injured man onto his left side. "Sweet Jesus," he swore as he saw the criss-cross lash marks on his friend's back and the blackened area running from hip to hip.

Tanner remained quiet as he held the gunslinger, his eyes once more taking in the cruelty Maguire managed to heap on the lean body. He silently swore to go back and make sure the man was dead and not a threat to his friend or anyone else. First he needed to be sure the gunslinger was going to make it.

Jackson used the last of the water to clean the inflamed lashes. The silence of the blond haired man worried him. Shaking his head he finished with the wounds, dumping the dirty water to the side. "That's all I can do until we get him to the farm."

"You did great, Nathan," Wilmington used one hand to hold the gunslinger while the other one reached out and sent strength to the pale healer. "What do you need us to do now?"

Jackson shook himself and stood up. "We need to get him in the back of the wagon. JD, Ezra," he called. "How's it going?"

"Almost ready," JD shouted.

"Bring the wagon closer as soon as it's ready," the former slave called.

"Consider it done," Standish called, jumping into the seat and making the horse move towards the area where their leader lay.

Jackson looked at the four men before settling his gaze on the injured man. "We're gonna need to get him into the back. I want him kept as level as possible. The less stress on those wounds the better. He's already lost a lot of blood and can't afford to lose anymore. Buck, Vin, you two take his upper body. Ezra, JD, you two got his legs. Let's get this done as quickly as we can. On three," the healer said as he gripped the blond head. "One, two, three."

Five sets of hands lifted him, ignoring the green eyes that shot open and the cry of pain that ripped from the battered man.

Chris was torn from the void as his body was lifted from the ground. The agony was too much and he was unable to stop the cry that erupted from his throat. He fought to breath through the pain as memories flooded through him. "S...stop," he pleaded as he felt himself placed on something soft, yet firm. He gasped, the air filling his lungs causing dagger like pain in his chest. "O...oh, God!" he cried out.

"Easy, Stud, we got ya. Just another minute or two and you can rest," Wilmington spoke reassuringly as they eased him to the blankets.

"B...Buck, c...can't b...breath," Larabee wheezed.

"Sit him up," Jackson ordered sharply.

Wilmington eased him up and watched as Tanner slid in behind him and signaled for the ladies man to lean him back against him. "I got ya, Chris," he told the trusting fever bright eyes.

"T...thanks," Larabee wheezed as air filled his congested lungs once more.

"We're gonna take ya to a house and Nathan's gonna fix ya right up," the sharpshooter told him.

"O...okay," the injured man hissed as his eyes slid closed.

"Chris."

"Hmm."

"I want you to drink a little more water," the healer ordered.

Larabee forced his eyes open and nodded slightly. The canteen was placed to his mouth and he drank greedily until Jackson pulled it away.

"Let's let that settle for a minute, Chris."

"T...thirsty."

"I know. Now you just rest against Vin until we get you outta here. Try to sleep," the healer told him.

"S...so tired."

"I know you are, Cowboy," Tanner drawled. He reached down and gently clasped the gunslinger's hands, carefully avoiding the torn skin around the wrists. "You go ahead and sleep. We'll watch your back."

It wasn't just the words that hit him, it was the force behind them. In his darkest moments, he'd known they'd find him. That faith...that was the real weapon. He felt the strong arms of his best friend and let his body go. Larabee's head bobbed once and Tanner watched the eyes slide closed once more. He used his other hand and flicked back the stray strands of blond hair.

Jackson placed a blanket over the blond and covered him to his shoulders. "Keep him leaning against you, Vin. Make sure he's able to breathe."

"I will, Nate."

"Buck, I'm gonna drive the wagon. I want you, Ezra and JD to head back to the farm and move the bodies out of the house. We won't use the room they were kept in, but we're gonna be in that house for a while and I don't think it's healthy for any of us if we keep them there. Put them in the barn for now. We'll give them a proper burial tomorrow morning."

"Alright, Nathan," Wilmington agreed, knowing the healer needed to stay near Larabee in case something happened. He looked at the tracker, not a trace of hurt in his eyes as he spoke. "Keep him with us, Vin."

"I will," Tanner vowed.

"Ez, JD, let's ride," the ladies man ordered.

The sharpshooter and the healer watched as the three men galloped away. A silent, solemn oath passed between them as they separated. Their number would not decrease as long as they kept faith that Larabee would live through the painful journey ahead of him.

Jackson climbed into the front seat and picked up the reins. He turned to the two men in the back, his eyes meeting those of the tracker. The worry and fear he felt at the thought of losing this man shone on his face. A slight nod from the tracker eased his mind somewhat and he spoke softly. "Let me know if you need me."

Tanner nodded again before turning his attention back to the man whose life depended on the dark skinned healer. He didn't envy the former slave the job, but he had faith the man would be able to pull Larabee through. There were no degrees or diplomas adorning the dark skinned man's walls in the clinic, yet no one doubted that a healer lived between the four walls. A gasping cough pulled him from his thoughts and he held the injured man tighter.

Larabee's eyes shot open with the first cough. Pain seemed to be in every pore of his body as the second one ripped through his lungs. He tried to lift his arms, but they were held in a grip of steel.

"I got ya, Chris," Tanner assured him. "Ya jest rest easy." He saw the fear and pain on the bruised face as he fought to breathe. "Nathan, I need ya."

Jackson was already standing at the back of the wagon. The first wheezing cough alerting him to the fact his patient was in distress. "Ease him up more," he ordered as he climbed into the back of the wagon. He ignored the fresh blood oozing from the wound on Larabee's chest, knowing he had to deal with the gunman's lack of air first. "Chris, Vin's got you. I want you to look at me and concentrate on breathing. Nothing else. Just look at me."

Tanner held his friend, letting the lean body sag against his own as the tired man tried to catch his breath. "Come on, Cowboy, ya ain't gonna let somethin' like this beat ya."

"C...can't b...breath..." the painful words were forced through swollen lips.

"Sure ya can," Tanner soothed. "Jest think about that nice soft bed we're gonna put ya in soon's we get to that house. Nathan'll probably make ya somethin' to ease the pain and coughing."

"H...horse p...p...piss?" Larabee's breath came easier as he gazed into the wondrous blue eyes above him.

"Probably," Tanner answered with a small reassuring grin.

"Chris." Jackson waited for Larabee's eyes to focus on his. "I want you to drink some more water."

Larabee accepted the canteen and drank greedily until the healer pulled it away. "T...thanks, Nathan."

"You're welcome," the healer told him, relieved to see the chest rising and falling without the harsh sounds it made earlier. "You go on back to sleep now."

"C...can't sleep," Larabee told him.

"Why, Chris?" the sharpshooter asked.

"If I s...sleep...might not...wake up. Be b...back in t...the c...cave... d...don't know if I c...could t...take a...anymore. So t...tired, Vin."

"You're a strong man, Chris..." Jackson began, watching a look of fear on Vin Tanner's face.

"N...not strong, Nathan...Maguire m...made sure of t...that," he hissed as his tortured body came to life in another agonizing wave of defeat.

"Bullshit!" Tanner's voice caught in his throat, "Yer strength is right here," he rested his hand over the injured man's heart. "That bastard never touched ya, I feel yer strength, Chris..."

Larabee felt tears well up in his eyes as the sharpshooter held him tightly. He knew as long as his friends were there he had a chance of triumphing over Maguire's evil. Tanner's hand on his chest was a calming influence and the injured man slowly relaxed in his grip. His labored breathing the only sound, but it was the only sound the two men wanted to hear.

"You got him, Vin?"

Tanner nodded and settled back against the side of the wagon, holding tightly to the battered body lying against him. He could feel heat and knew how dangerous this would be to a man in Chris's condition. "He's got a fever."

"I know. That's another reason we need the water," Jackson told him and moved to the front of the wagon once more.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

The Devil's Destiny---9

Buck, JD, and Ezra wrapped cloth around their faces before moving into the room. The sight that met their eyes was one that was ingrained on their minds forever. The four bodies lay in a mass of congealed blood and JD was hard pressed to keep from gagging.

"Easy, Kid," Wilmington's muffled voice came through the cloth, calming the young, pale Bostonian.

"B...Buck, I... they're just kids..."

"I know, JD, but right now there's nothing we can do for them. We gotta get them out to the barn before Nathan and Vin get here with Chris. It may sound cold but they're dead and Chris is alive. We gotta concentrate on him now."

Standish knew the ladies man wasn't nearly as detached from the scene as he pretended. He could see the unshed moisture in the pained blue eyes. "Shall we get this morbid job over with?" The conman hid behind his own emotional facade in an effort to keep his poker face from slipping. One look from the older man told him it wasn't working.

"JD, go take the blanket off that bed. We'll put them in it and carry them out to the barn." He knelt beside the bodies and bowed his head. "God, forgive me. I wish there was another way," he whispered as he felt the tears fall unashamedly from his eyes.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

An hour later the three emotionally and physically exhausted men stood on the narrow porch and watched the wagon pull into the yard. They hurried to meet their friends, their eyes devouring the sight of the still breathing gunslinger.

The wagon stopped in front of the house and Jackson hopped down. "Is everything ready?"

"We moved the family into the barn and opened up all the windows and doors in the house," Wilmington explained.

"We put water on to boil, Nate," the shaken youngest offered.

The healer couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. The young man from the east was quickly learning how cruel life could be in the west. "That's great JD," he offered as he moved to the back of the wagon.

"We prepared a bed in the c...children's room, Mr. Jackson," Standish explained.

"Can you bring my things in there, JD?" Jackson didn't need to look to know his orders were being carried out.

"Sure, Nathan." The kid grabbed the saddlebags and other items and hurried into the house.

"Is he awake, Vin?" the healer asked.

"Been awake for awhile, Nate," the sharpshooter answered. He knew the instant his friend woke up. The green eyes opened for just an instant as if making sure this was real and not a dream.

"Chris."

Larabee opened his eyes as far as he could. The swelling from the beating he'd taken increased to the point where they were mere green slits. "N...Nathan, h...help."

The two words spoke of the raw pain the man suffered from and Jackson bit his lower lip, forcing a smile to his own tired features. "I'm gonna help you as soon as we get you inside, Chris. Buck, Ezra, you two got his legs, Vin, you and JD," he smiled as the youngest member of the seven returned. "Take his shoulders. Chris," he waited for the eyes to meet his again. "I'm gonna lean you forward so's Vin can move out from under you. Okay?"

"O...okay," was the simple reply.

Jackson ignored the muted moans as he gently pulled the gunslinger forward. As soon as the sharpshooter was down and rubbed the feeling back into his legs, they moved. Five men lifted the injured man and carried him into the house. The look on Larabee's face was one of misery; the other five faces showed the mental discipline needed to ignore their friend's pain.

"C...can't...please...God...N...Nathan, stop," he begged as the pain threatened to throw him into a dark abyss, one filled with nightmares of his ordeal.

"Almost there, Stud," Wilmington soothed.

"N...no, B...Buck, s...stop. C...can't b...breathe," he gasped.

"Nathan?" Tanner asked as the wheezing grew more pronounced and the cries weaker.

"Hurry," Jackson ordered. They moved into the small bedroom and eased the gunslinger onto the bed. "Ezra, get me as many pillows as you can find. Vin, keep him in a sitting position until we got enough pillows. Buck, bring me the water you got boiled," the former slave ordered as he reached for his saddlebags. He pulled a small brown paper wrapped package from inside. "JD put about two teaspoons of this in a cup of hot water and let it steep real well. Bring it in here when you're done." Jackson didn't wait for the others to comment as he moved back to the injured man. "Chris, I got to work on these wounds. I can't give you anymore Laudanum right now. JD's steeping one of my teas for you. It'll help with the pain."

"O...okay...h...have w...water?"

"Sure you can have water," Jackson smiled. He turned as the gambler entered the room, his arms loaded with pillows. "Ezra, can you bring Chris a glass of water?"

"Immediately, Mr. Jackson," Standish handed the healer the pillows and left the room.

"Alright, Vin, keep him up until I get these behind him," the former slave ordered.

Tanner held the injured man through it all, feeling as if his soul was being wrenched from his heart as he listened to the weakening protests. He breathed a sigh of relief as Jackson helped him ease Larabee onto the soft pillows.

Jackson turned as Wilmington entered carrying a large basin of water. "What else do you need, Nathan?"

"Towels, sheets, anythin' I can use to clean the wounds and bandage them after I'm done."

"You got it," the ladies man hurried from the room, passing the conman as he did.

"Mr. Jackson, here's the water you requested."

"Thanks, Ez," he took the offered glass and touched the blond's shoulder gently. "I have some water here for you."

Larabee accepted the cool liquid, his parched throat crying out in gratitude. All too soon the glass was removed. "M...more," he mumbled pitifully.

"Not yet, Chris. We don't want you getting sick right now."

"Nate, I got the tea ready."

"Put it on the table until it cools down some, JD. Vin, we need to get these wounds cleaned up. Can you take care of his legs?"

The sharpshooter nodded and accepted the cloth from the healer. Together they bathed every inch of Larabee's body, uncovering new cuts and bruises as they went. Some of the cuts seemed to have been cauterized and Vin knew this was done to inflict more pain and fear into his friend.

Wilmington came into the room carrying every towel he could find. He carefully avoided looking at the battered body, afraid he'd let the anger erupt in an open display of violence. "What else do you need, Nate?" he asked.

"You, Ezra and JD see if you can rustle up something to eat. Maybe make a broth for Chris," he knew his orders were being carried out without question. When it came to healing and medical problems these men automatically gave over control to him. More often than not he wondered what he'd done to deserve their faith in his inadequate abilities. Shaking away his negative thoughts he turned back to his patient, amazed to see the eyes were partially open, but filled with pain. He reached for the cup of herbal tea and held it to the gunslinger's cracked, swollen lips.

Chris swallowed the bitter brew without tasting it. All he knew was it was wet and eased the arid feeling in his mouth and throat. He drank as much as Jackson would allow, knowing the other man was far from finished with his work. He knew he was hurt, knew how bad things were gonna get, but he realized he now had good reasons to go on living. Revenge for the murder of his wife and son no longer took precedence, although he'd never quit searching. Living was his priority right now. These men were not ready to let him go and he wasn't ready to give up the new reasons he had for facing life again and all it had to offer. "T...thanks f...for c...coming..." he whispered as his eyes closed and he slipped towards sleep.

"He's sleeping, Vin. That's the best thing for him right now. I want to stitch up the wounds on his chest and thigh. I want you to keep washing him down. If that fever goes any higher we might end up with convulsions and I don't think he's strong enough for that."

"Alright, Nathan," Tanner left the room with the dirtied water, returning a few minutes later with cool clean water. He placed the basin on the table and silently bathed the bruised face. He watched as the healer's sharp needle bit into the tender flesh on the gunslinger's taut chest. '_Dammit, Chris, I wish there was some way to turn back time,'_ he thought.

Jackson watched the younger man's troubled face. He knew Vin was thinking about the damage Maguire inflicted on the gunslinger. "He's got a real good chance now, Vin. We just have to get his fever down and make sure no more infections set in."

Tanner nodded once and the two men worked together to care for the injured man. They carefully cleaned each wound, no matter how small, knowing any infection could kill their friend without warning.

Nathan worried about the heavy wheezing. He knew the signs of pneumonia and worried that he didn't have the things he needed to treat it. He stood up from the bed and stretched tense muscles. He frowned as he noted the labored breathing and the heavy creases of pain in his friend's forehead even while he slept. The willow bark tea he'd managed to get into him would help with the fever, but he needed to do more. He needed to find a way to ease some of the congestion and make his patient breathe a little easier. "Vin."

Tanner looked up and saw his own worry mirrored on the face of the healer. "Yeah."

"I'm gonna see if there's anything I can use to ease his breathing," Jackson explained.

"He's got pneumonia don't he?"

Jackson nodded, "Maybe, I'm just not sure, Vin. That's why I can't give him any more Laudanum. It affects the breathing and right now Chris is having enough trouble getting air into his lungs. I'm gonna make up some sassafras tea and maybe some of that peppermint as well. I wanna see if we can head it off before it becomes full blown. Will you stay with him till I get back?"

Tanner simply nodded and turned back to the job at hand. He used the water to continue wiping down his friend. The cuts, bruises, and breathing scared Tanner more than he admitted. This man was a part of what made them a team, but he was more than that. From the moment their eyes met the first day in Four Corners he'd felt a connection with Chris Larabee. That connection was strained at times, but now it felt as if it was about to be snapped. He struggled to hold onto the man before him, knowing to lose him now would be akin to losing a part of himself he'd only just rediscovered. The part that knew what it meant to have a family he cared about.

Chris knew what it felt like to be in misery. He remembered the pain as Maguire placed the burning blade against his abdomen. He gritted his teeth as he felt something wet against his heated flesh. He felt a ripple of energy pass through him as bare skin touched bare skin. He opened his eyes and saw a rough hand on his forehead. He knew instinctively that this man was not going to hurt him, in spite of the pain he was feeling. His eyes moved from the hand to the body it belonged too, finally coming to rest on the blue eyes of the tracker. "V...Vin."

"Hey, Cowboy," Tanner drawled. "Thought ya were sleepin'."

"I was. J...just n...needed to k...know you w...were all real. T...thought it w...was a d...dream."

Larabee's breathing grew worse and Tanner helped him sit forward even more. The soft painful moans tore at his heart, wrapping him in a cloak of his own pain. He wondered if there was something he could've done to prevent the pain Maguire inflicted on this man he thought of as brother.

"Easy does it, Chris, I got ya."

"C...chest h...hurts, V...Vin," Larabee rasped.

"I know it does. Nate's makin' ya somethin' ta help ya out right now," the sharpshooter assured him as he leaned him back against the pillows.

"N...Nate's h...horse p...piss h...helps," Larabee admitted.

"Yeah," the tracker grinned. "We jest can't tell 'im that. He'll have us drinkin' it if'n we sneezed."

"W...won't say a w...word," he groaned as another wave of pain washed over his body; he coughed and felt something come up in his throat. He spit it into the cloth Tanner held before him.

The tortured coughing continued as Nathan Jackson came into the room. He placed the steaming tea on the table and knelt beside the bed. "That's it, Chris. Keep coughing and spitting that shit out." He watched as the blond head slowly turned towards him, fear and pain evident in the green eyes. "I know it hurts, Chris, but you need to get as much of this crud up as possible. That's why you're having trouble breathing. That stuff coats your lungs and it makes it hard to get any air in," the healer explained as he gently rubbed the injured man's shoulders. He knew this wasn't only hard on Chris, but also on the men watching. He didn't have time to reassure the three men who stepped into the room and watched their friend's misery.

Buck watched from the short distance, the harsh coughing hard for him to hear. He knew his friend either had pneumonia or was pretty close to it. He trusted the dark skinned healer, but hated when they had to rely on him in this way. It meant someone was suffering and usually that suffering transferred to the kind-hearted former slave. The man was strong, and that strength lay in his healing abilities. He'd seen Nathan Jackson cry the day his father testified. He'd seen him weep when one of them was injured and he felt inadequate. Buck knew there was a long painful journey ahead, not just for Chris Larabee, but for Nathan Jackson as well. He knew Jackson wouldn't complain about the long hours he would be forced to put in. The man was a giant among men when it came to his patients. Especially when one of his friends suffered unbearable atrocities such as those heaped on the pale blond. "God damn you, Maguire," he hissed as he watched his friend's continued struggle.

Chris felt the air reaching his lungs and sighed painfully. "T...thanks," he muttered as the healer placed him back on the pillows once more. "S...so t...tired," he told them.

"I got some things I need you to drink, Chris. Then we'll let you go to sleep."

Larabee forced a smile to his bruised, swollen lips and fought to keep his eyes open. His chest and ribs cried out for relief, overshadowing the pain from the other injuries. "H...horse p...piss," he whispered, trying to ease some of the pain he saw in the five pairs of eyes studying him.

"T...that's right, Chris," Jackson's voice hitched as he forced the pain from his mind. He reached for the cup of Sassafras tea and eased it to the gunslinger's mouth. It took a very long fifteen minutes for Larabee to drink the tea. Nathan reached for a second cup, this one held more of the willow bark tea to ease the fever burning through the man's body. "Just two more, Chris."

"S...sleep..." Larabee muttered.

"As soon as you get this down, Cowboy," Tanner assured him. "Come on now, open up and drink it." Larabee did as he was told, too weak to fight any longer. He finished the second cup, feeling the draw of sleep as a cup of cold water was placed before him. By the time he took the third sip he was sleeping in the crook of Vin Tanner's arm. The harsh breathing the only sound in the strange room.

Vin held his friend close, knowing it would take all their strength combined to bring him through this trauma. His own strength seemed to have deserted him in the wake of Larabee's surrender to unconsciousness. He sighed heavily, and tried to ease the ache in his own body. His arms felt leaden, but there was no way he would give in to the sea of fatigue. He knew one of the others could hold the lean form, but he couldn't give up his hold right now. He needed to feel the life that still breathed in the battered form, to know he wasn't going to leave them. He lifted his head and met the pained eyes of the healer. "He's hurtin' pretty bad, Nate."

"I know he is, Vin. The willow bark tea should help," Jackson told him and turned to include the other men in his conversation. "Chris is gonna need a lot of help from us."

Taking a trembling step towards the bed, Wilmington asked, "What do you want us to do?"

"I need you all to eat something and get some sleep," Jackson ordered.

"But..." Dunne stammered.

"No, buts, JD. Right now I have enough to do looking after Chris. I don't have time to worry about whether or not you guys are gonna collapse because you're ignoring your own needs." The healer turned so his eyes fell on the tracker. "That goes for you too, Vin. You get some rest because he's gonna need you when he wakes up."

"I'm alright, Nathan," Tanner whispered softly, barely able to lift his own set of tired eyes.

Jackson knew the energy it took for Vin to hold this man. A man he let inside his heart in spite of everything he'd been through. He could see it in the younger man's eyes, could tell this was tearing him up inside. The dark circles under those windows to his soul gave mute testament to the lack of sleep the man got over the last few days since Larabee's disappearance. Jackson sighed heavily as he looked down at his patient. '_Few days. How could he have done this_ _in a few days?'_ he thought. "Vin, look, I don't have time to argue right now. I'm gonna need all of you to help me out."

"Mr. Jackson, you're the one Mr. Larabee will need when he wakes up. It's you that's in need of rest," Standish observed.

The former slave knew the conman was right. Now that Larabee's wounds were tended to the best of his abilities, the healer felt the bone weary tiredness seeping into his body. He glanced at each man, wondering how long it was since any of them had a good night's sleep. "I can't..."

"Nathan, you have too," Wilmington interrupted. "I'll stay with Chris. The rest of you get some rest." He held up his hands at the sounds of protest from each man. "Look, I'm not gonna argue with any of you. I've been with Chris a lot of years, known him longer than any of you." He turned to the sharpshooter and spoke softly but with an inner strength the others could sense. "You got him this far, Vin. Now it's time to let one of us help out." He looked at each man, the pain evident on his face as he spoke. "I need to do this. Not just for Chris, but for me. I need to know that he still trusts me to watch his back as well," as he said these words his eyes met the tracker's and a silent signal passed between them.

Jackson looked around the room and knew they'd relinquished their leader to the ladies man. They'd rest knowing he was in capable hands. He stood up and placed his hand on the pale forehead. He hated the heat emanating from the injured man, knowing it was taking a toll on the blond. "Alright, Buck, you stay with him. Make sure you keep wiping him down. I'm gonna make up some more teas and I want you to make sure you get him to drink as much as you can when he wakes up. We gotta make sure he's drinking 'cause if we don't that fever's gonna keep sapping his strength. I'll bring in water as well. You come get me if he needs anything. Did you eat?" he asked at the last minute.

"Not yet. We found some bread and preserves in the pantry. Made some sandwiches," Wilmington answered.

"I'll bring you a plate, Buck," Dunne offered and hurried out before the others could answer.

Standish watched the youngest member of the team. He knew the kid was tormented by what he'd seen over the last day. He wondered if the young man would ever be able to put it in prospective. He vowed to listen if he needed or wanted to talk. He sighed heavily as he looked at the pale form on the bed. With a shake of his head he realized the young easterner wasn't the only one affected by the last twenty-four hours. A demon, in the form of a man, had come into their lives and nearly taken one of their own. _'He will not_ _take you, Chris,'_ he silently vowed.

"Vin, you need to ease back a bit while I put another pillow under him," Jackson ordered.

Tanner looked down at the man he held, knowing he had such a tenuous hold on life right now. He nodded to the healer and moved back, easing the gunslinger up slightly as the healer placed another firm cushion behind the injured man. Vin stood away from the bed, his legs shaky, his back tense as he gazed on the bruised face. Even in sleep he could see the lines of pain as the gunslinger was lifted slightly forward. A hand on his shoulder forced his gaze away from the blond, and he looked into another familiar pair of green eyes.

"Mr. Larabee will again be the pillar of strength we know him to be, Mr. Tanner," the conman assured him.

"Thanks, Ez," he said, the two words conveying how much he appreciated the gesture. He knew this was hard on them all. The stoic gambler, who hid behind formality, wore his emotions on his face. He didn't even try to hide behind the formidable poker face he was renowned for. A slight tremor of the man's hand on his shoulder told the sharpshooter just how much this affected him.

Wilmington pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down. He reached for the cloth and wrung the water from it, silently washing the fevered brow.

"Hell, Chris, You gotta keep on fighting_,_"he whispered, his hand trembling slightly. The labored breathing scared him, he'd heard it too often in the prison camps, a sure sign that death loomed within striking distance. He remembered watching helplessly as men succumbed to their illnesses. '_This is one time death won't win,'_ he silently vowed.

"Buck, come get me if he needs anything," Jackson repeated as Dunne came into the room with a sandwich and coffee for the moustached man.

"I will, Nathan," the ladies man promised as he took the food from the younger man.

"Alright, the rest of you follow me," the healer ordered and led the three men from the room.

"Jesus, Chris, he really did a job on you," Wilmington whispered when the others left. He looked at the sandwich and coffee, unsure if his stomach could handle it. Unconsciously his hand moved to the plate and before he realized what he was doing the small meal was gone. He reached for the cloth once more and continued to bathe the fevered body on the bed, carefully avoiding the bandaged areas.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

The Devil's Destiny---10

Josiah Sanchez stared into the cup in front of him. The coffee Inez served him lay untouched and cold. He was a spiritual man and sometimes he knew when things were bad. The crows outside his window always scared him, yet he'd faced death rather than show that fear. Five long days the crows had been there, yet the ex-preacher knew his friends were alive. He only hoped they were able to find Chris Larabee. He knew now that Maguire was the one who'd taken him, knew it as sure as he knew the sun would shine tomorrow. He watched the people going about their business, a sense of pride on his face. These people were showing just how much they appreciated the work the seven did in Four Corners. Ever since Mary Travis informed them what happened they'd constantly come to him for word on the missing men. The men of the town were taking shifts to make sure the area was patrolled in order to give him a break. He silently prayed the four men would find Chris and bring him home. He smiled as the young woman came out of the saloon.

"You never touched your coffee, Senor," Inez observed as she set a plate of eggs, biscuits, and bacon before him. "I'll get you a fresh one."

"Thank you, Inez." He picked up a biscuit and ate without tasting it.

"They will find him," the woman told him firmly.

"I hope so," Sanchez said, turning his attention back to the town he called home.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Chris opened his eyes as he felt a new round of coughing building in his throat. He moaned as the first harsh effort tore past his lips. He felt hands lift him forward and hold him as the torturous coughs seemed to rip the lungs from his chest.

Buck held his friend, watching in horror as the man fought to breathe. He could feel the heavy wheeze and reached for the cloth as a small amount of thick crud left the injured man's mouth. He heard the small, weak cries emanating from the blond and spoke soothingly. "I got you, Chris, and I'm not gonna let you go."

"B...Buck," Larabee wheezed.

"Don't try to talk. Just concentrate on breathing," Wilmington ordered. "Nathan!" he called as the bout grew more intense and he swore he felt the life leaving his friend. "Nathan!" he repeated, unaware that three men were already at his side.

"Let me in there, Buck," Jackson ordered. He slid into the spot Wilmington vacated and let the lean chest rest against his arm. "Chris, it's Nathan. Just listen to my voice and concentrate on breathing. Don't fight the coughing. It's gonna help."

"C...can't b...breathe, N...Nathan, c...chest on f...fire."

"Ezra, Vin, bring me in that pan of herbs I put on the stove. Buck, find me a sheet or something to make a tent. JD, fetch me a cup of the tea I had steeping. Hurry!" he snapped, realizing the man he held was in distress and needed help desperately. He heard the flurry of activity as if from a distance as he continued to sooth the man on the bed. He felt the shoulders heave as his own hand massaged them gently.

"What do you want me to do with it?" Wilmington asked as he returned with a white sheet.

"Drape it over the headboard and tuck it under the mattress just below us," Jackson explained.

"Where do you want the water?" Tanner asked worriedly.

"Pour it into a basin and place it on the bed," the healer said as his orders continued to be obeyed without question. "That's it, Chris, bring it up. Not there, Vin, bring it closer," he told the sharpshooter. "Buck, make sure that sheet is pulled tight around us," he snapped and climbed onto the bed beside the weak man. The hot steam from the herb filled water soon filled the enclosed area and Jackson prayed it would ease his friend's suffering. "Breathe in the vapors. That's it. Breathe as deeply as you can. You're not alone anymore, Chris, you've got friends, f...family who care about you."

The gunslinger fought with what little strength he had, knowing to give in would be surrendering everything he was, everything he held dear. In another way it would be allowing Maguire to win and he couldn't...he wouldn't allow that to happen. Slowly the pain eased and he was able to feel the air entering his abused lungs. He cried out as the broken ribs picked up where the painful coughing left off. He felt every lash mark on his back, every wound Maguire inflicted with the heated blade and the scalpel. All the pain eased as he felt the strength of the arms holding him, talking to him, telling him he wasn't alone anymore. That he had family. "N...Nathan, M...Maguire...is h...he d...dead?"

"He's dead, Chris. He died when the cavern collapsed. He won't be hurting anyone ever again. Now you just relax and keep breathing those vapors."

"H...he's d...dead?"

"Yes he is," the healer assured him. "I've got something I need you to drink. Okay?"

"T...think so."

"JD, pass me that tea," Jackson ordered, he watched the heaving chest and the pain written on the pale face.

"Here, Nathan," Dunne's hand came under the sheet and Jackson eased the gunslinger back to the pillows.

The former slave took the proffered cup and held it to Larabee's mouth. "Alright, Chris, I want you to drink this. It'll help with the fever and some of the pain. I wish I could give you Laudanum, but right now that'll only make things worse."

"It's o...okay. N...not y...your f...fault, 'sides its n...not t...too b...bad," Larabee smiled thinly, the lie obvious on his face.

"Sure, Chris, here," the healer watched as the injured man slowly took in the willow bark tea. He pulled the cup away often, in order to let him take air into his lungs. He watched the pain filled eyes slowly close as the last of the tea made its way past the swollen lips. He moved the basin of water a safe distance from the still form, eased out from under the sheet and placed the empty cup on the table.

"Nathan?" Tanner's voice was filled with questions.

"He's resting, Vin. I'm not gonna lie to any of you. This is bad. Chris is damned close to pneumonia and you all know how dangerous that can be on its own. If he comes down with a full blown case I don't think anything short of a miracle will pull him through. There's another problem with us being so far from town. I need more supplies. I got enough with me for maybe two more days, but he's gonna need more than that. There's no way he'll be up to the ride back to town for at least a week and that's being generous. I checked the garden out back, but there's not much I can use there. If he's to have a chance at all someone's gonna have to ride back and bring out some of my supplies." He watched the emotions warring for domination on each face. He knew how hard it would be for any of them to leave without knowing if their leader would be alive when they returned. "Someone's gotta go."

"I'll go, Mr. Jackson," Standish offered, a lump in his throat at the thought of leaving. "Its time we informed Mr. Sanchez that we found Mr... found Chris."

"Alright, Ezra, I'll need my herbs and some of that paste I use for wounds," Jackson ran his hands down his cheeks as he tried to think. "I'm gonna mark down what I need. You and Josiah should be able to find everything. Just make sure you get back here as fast as you can."

"I assure you I will," the gambler vowed.

"Vin, keep an eye on Chris. Buck, go get some rest before you fall down. JD, see if you can't rustle up something for supper. Ezra, come with me."

"Go ahead, Buck, I'll come get you if anything happens," Tanner told him.

Wilmington nodded, his eyes showing just how much he was entrusting to the sharpshooter. He walked from the room, his shaky legs barely able to carry him.

"He'll be okay, JD. They both will," Tanner told the youngest member of the seven. He knew the kid was having problems dealing with the horrors he was forced to see over the last few days. He also recognized the inner strength the young easterner held beneath his emotional exterior.

"Why would Maguire do this to Chris, Vin? Why would he do it to anyone?"

"Maguire was a sick man, JD. I don't think anyone'll ever understand what makes a man like 'im tick. Maybe when Chris is better he'll be able ta tell us what happened, but he might not want ta talk about it fer some time ta come."

"I'm glad the son of a bitch is dead!" Dunne swore angrily.

"Me too," Tanner assured the other man, not wanting to reveal his plan to go back and make sure the maniac was dead.

"I'd best see if I can get supper started."

"Check the smokehouse, JD. Maybe there's somethin' there."

"I will," the easterner said and hurried from the room.

Vin sat on the chair and reached out to lift the sheet. The wheezing seemed to have diminished but he knew it wasn't enough. The strong smell of Jackson's medicinal vapors made him heady but he slid under the sheet and bathed the still form. The heat under the makeshift tent soon had him shrugging out of his flannel shirt, but he continued to try to cool the heated body. He looked up as the sheet was removed, his eyes meeting those of the healer. "He's still hot, Nathan."

"I know, Vin, and this tent won't help with his fever. It's a matter of the lesser of two evils. We need to treat his lungs as well as his fever. I've got some cold water from the well here and I want you to use it on him. You let me know when he wakes up and we'll get more of the Sassafras and Willow bark teas into him. I've also got some broth ready and the more water we get into him the better. He's fighting, Vin, fighting damned hard and if we help him I think he'll beat this one too."

"I'll do anything you say, Nathan. We all will," Tanner turned back to the job at hand. He used the fresh water to bathe the form, carefully tending each and every mark heaped on the body. The face was barely recognizable through the vivid bruising and array of cuts covering it. He fought back a sense of guilt as he realized they might have prevented this if they'd listened to their own intuitions. They were all guilty of relaxing once they thought the salesmen rode out of their lives that day. Instead he'd waited until they felt safe before attacking a man who they'd all instinctively chosen as leader. "I'm sorry, Chris, sorry that son of a bitch died so easy. Coulda showed 'im a few things 'bout torture and pain. Comanche's 'ave their own brand of revenge and I seen 'em use it," he whispered. _'If I find him alive when I go back there I'll teach him every one of 'em,'_ he thought, not wanting to voice it aloud. He wanted Chris to hold onto the fact his tormentor was dead and it was up to him to make sure he was.

During the next twenty four hours the fever continued to rage through the gunslinger. The bouts of coughing were intense and painful for not only the affected man, but his friends as well. They continued to care for his injuries, sitting under the sheet when Jackson thought he needed the medicinal vapors again. They bathed him constantly, hoping the cool water would help diminish the heat rising from the body.

Jackson sat under the make shift tent as two weary, fever bright eyes opened. The fear he saw there told him another round of coughing was about to start. He lifted the blond forward and held him as gently as he could. He spoke softly hoping to ease the fear he knew would come with Larabee's inability to draw a breath.

"I got ya, Chris, try to concentrate on breathing, nothing else but getting air into you. I'm not gonna let you go so just hold onto me," he soothed as the first of many tortured coughs erupted from the heaving chest.

Chris concentrated on the voice of his friend. He listened to the soothing words without hearing them; all he needed at the moment was to know someone was with him. As the first cough left him he knew what misery and pain were. The familiar burning sensation in his chest flared as he reached for the dark arms that held him. He fought the panic as time and again waves of fresh agony washed through him. He had no idea how long it lasted, but for him it was much too long. Again and again he spit the thick mucus from his lungs into a cloth Jackson held to his mouth. His chest heaved and he gasped as the tightness finally eased and he drew shallow breaths.

"W...water," he rasped painfully.

"I'm gonna ease you back on the pillows, Chris. Just lie still and I'll get you water and a few other things."

"O...Other things?" Larabee's smile was short lived as he wrapped his arms around his chest.

Jackson let the sheet drop back over the bed as he hurried to get the tea and broth he prepared earlier. He placed the items on the small bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. He folded the sheet over the edge of the bed and removed the basin of water. He saw the green eyes were closed, but knew from the lines creased into the forehead Larabee was awake and in misery. He sat on the edge of the bed and spoke softly.

"Chris, this'll help."

Larabee forced his eyes open and slowly dipped his sweat soaked head. He didn't have the energy needed to speak past his ravaged throat. He opened his mouth and sipped the warm tea. The liquid eased the heat at the back of his mouth and his eyes filled with gratitude. The empty cup was removed and a second took its place. He recognized the taste of the chicken broth and slowly drank it. By the time the third cup was placed before him his eyelids were dropping. He sipped at the cool water for a few seconds and turned away. He slipped towards sleep, barely aware of the three men who entered the room.

"How's he doing, Nathan?" Wilmington asked.

"He's still with us, Buck, and right now that's something we need to be thankful for. I gave him broth, water and Willow bark tea. That's about all we can do. We gotta keep getting him to drink things, keep bathing him with cool water and keep up the vapor treatments for his lungs. I know it hurts to see him like this and sometimes it feels like we're only adding to his pain, but we're not. He needs this, all of it, in order to heal."

"Nathan, why don't you get some rest? I can stay with Chris for a while," Dunne suggested.

Jackson debated before answering, his own body telling him he needed rest. "Alright, JD, but you come get me if he wakes up and needs anything."

"JD," the ladies man said.

"Yeah, Buck?"

"Me and Vin are gonna take care of the family. We'll be up on that ridge gettin' the graves ready. You make sure you come get us if he needs anything, Kid. I mean anything."

"I will," the easterner assured them. He watched the three men leave and turned his attention to the man on the bed. A man he admired not only for his abilities with a gun, but for his ability to use them only when he needed too. He watched countless times as the gunslinger stood before a man who called him out. Watched as the green eyes turned deadly and the cold look came over the handsome face. Nine times outta ten the other man backed down and turned away, unable to face the Larabee glare. JD knew how hard it was to kill someone and he knew his own regrets were mirrored by the six men he rode with. None of them were cold blooded killers, but when they needed to they killed to save lives, either their own or someone they cared for. The man on the bed tried to tell him to go home that first day at the Seminole village. JD smiled as he remembered Larabee's softly spoken, "Go home, Kid." He was angry at the time, but that anger subsided when Larabee and the others took him under their wings and showed him just how hard life in the west was.

A small moan brought him out of his reverie. He picked up the cloth and bathed the fevered brow. He watched as the battered face creased with pain.

"N...no!" Larabee's tortured voice came out as a gasp. "K...kill you, B...bastard... S...stop," he cried as something hot enshrouded his body. His need to escape the fevered dreams cast him back into reality, into a pain that threatened to send him into the fiery gates of hell. "M...Maguire...k...kill...you...I'll...k...kill you!"

"It's ok, Chris. Maguire can't hurt you any more. He's dead."

Larabee's stomach churned and he knew he was gonna be sick. He fought the heavy feeling, not wanting the pain that would come with the heaving. His eyes sought the face of the voice he heard, finally focusing on the dark haired young man seated beside the bed.

"S...sick..." he rasped and tried to move.

"Hold on, Chris, I got it," Dunne snapped as he grabbed the basin and held it under the sick man. He waited for the blond's stomach to finish expelling its contents. As the last of the dry heaves receded the kid placed the soiled basin on the floor and picked up the clean cloth from the second basin. He washed the face and looked into the green eyes, holding the gaze as long as the gunslinger allowed.

"S...sorry," Larabee apologized.

"For what?" the Bostonian asked

"C...causing s...so much t...trouble."

"Ah, Chris, you didn't cause trouble. It's not your fault Maguire was a killer. We shoulda known what he was before he did this to you."

"N...not your f...fault, K...K...," he groaned as he tried to move up on the bed.

"Let me help you, Chris," Dunne offered and tried to help Larabee up on the pillows. He reached for an arm and realized there was no where he could really touch without coming in contact with bandages or bruising. "Dammit!" he swore, realizing no matter where he touched he'd be causing more pain.

"I...it's ok, Kid, n...nothing you c...can do. C...can you g...give me s...some w...water?"

"Sure!" JD reached for the glass on the table and helped the injured man drink from it.

"T...thanks, JD, f...feel so d...damn t...tired all the t...time," the gunslinger mumbled as sleep beckoned once more.

JD picked up the cloth and continued his silent vigil over his injured friend, praying the fever and injuries would not be the undoing of this once strong man.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

The Devil's Destiny---11

Standish pushed himself and his mount to the limits, stopping only long enough to eat, drink and rest. He wouldn't even have done that, but he knew he couldn't chance anything happening to the horse. Finally as dawn broke on the morning of the second day he spotted the familiar buildings of Four Corners. "Almost there, Boy," he soothed the exhausted horse.

Sanchez watched the billowing dust and knew instantly it was one of his friends. He also realized it meant they'd found Larabee, but he was in no shape to ride. He stepped into the dusty street and waited for the man to ride in. He reached up and grasped the con man as he pulled the horse to a stop. He held him and helped him towards the saloon as Yosemite took charge of the horse. He eased the younger man into the chair outside the door and yelled for Inez to bring him some water.

"Ezra, are you okay?"

"I assure you...I'm fine, Mr. S...Sanchez," he accepted the glass of water from Inez and drained it. "Thank you. Josiah, we need to get supplies from the clinic."

"You need to rest for a few minutes," the ex-preacher ordered.

"You don't understand, there's no time. Nathan needs them." Standish tried to stand, but was forced back into the chair.

"Chris?" Sanchez eyebrows rose and worry become his predominant feature.

"Yes! We found him north of here in a cave. That maniac tortured him..." the two men turned at the gasp from behind them.

Mary Travis paled as she heard the southerner's words and couldn't stop the muffled sound from leaving her throat. "H...how bad is he? Is he alive? Are they bringing him home?"

"He's in bad shape, Mrs. Travis," Standish answered honestly.

"How bad, Ezra?" Sanchez asked.

Standish looked from Sanchez to the newspaperwoman, unsure exactly how much he should reveal. "I don't think I should..."

"Ezra, I may be a woman, but I run the town newspaper. If you won't tell me as a friend then tell me as a reporter. What did he do to Chris?"

"Go ahead, Ezra," Sanchez insisted.

"When we got there Vin, Buck and I went into the cave. W...we found him tied to the roof devoid of almost all clothing. Maguire was there and he tried to kill Chris. Vin shot him. We cut Chris down and brought him out. Oh, God, Josiah, he was whipped, and beaten and, and cut," Standish's shoulders slumped as he relayed the injuries Maguire inflicted on the blond gunslinger. He watched as not only Mary Travis paled, but so did the face of the ex-preacher. "There's more," he said softly.

"What more could there possibly be?" Mary cried.

"Nathan thinks Chris is close to pneumonia and he's nearly out of supplies. We need to get them and return with them post haste!" Standish insisted as he stood on wobbly legs.

"I'll get the supplies. You get some rest," Sanchez ordered.

"No time. Don't you understand, Josiah. Nathan needs these items immediately. We have to retrieve them from his clinic..."

"I know, Ezra, but right now you need to rest. Mrs. Travis and I will get the supplies, He opened the door of the saloon and called out to Inez.

The young woman came outside at once. "What can I do for you, Senor?" she asked, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Will you fix Ezra something to eat while Mary and I gather some supplies?"

"Of course. Did you find Senor Chris?"

"We did, Inez, and he's hurt bad. He's at a farm a day's ride north of here," Standish told her.

"Ezra and I will be riding out in an hour," Sanchez informed her.

"I'm coming," Mary insisted.

"Mary..." the older man began.

"Don't say it, Josiah! I'm going. Chris is a friend and I want to be there for h...him. For all of you. Don't try to stop me because I'll just follow you." Billy was still with his grandparent s and she knew Gloria Potter would watch things at the newspaper office for her.

"Alright, Mary," Sanchez reluctantly agreed. "Ezra, I'll have Yosemite saddle a new mount for you. Mary, can you see about gathering food supplies? I'll go to Nathan's clinic and meet you back here in half an hour."

The widow nodded and hurried towards Gloria Potter's store. She knew the woman would help her collect everything she needed without question.

"Josiah, Nathan gave me a list of things he needed," Standish handed the sheet of paper to Sanchez. Both men knew it was imperative they get the things together and leave as soon as possible.

The ex-preacher knew better than to suggest the younger man stay in town. Something told him they would all need to be there for Chris to survive. He looked towards the north and saw the black crow sitting in the middle of the path out of town. '_You will not get_ _him!_' he thought as he ran towards the clinic.

An hour later three horses headed out of town. Behind them a group of worried townspeople, led by Gloria Potter and Inez Recillos, watched the group ride out. The question on their minds this day was whether there'd be eight of them returning. They silently prayed for the life of Chris Larabee.

**M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7**

Vin Tanner was at the bedside when Larabee opened his eyes on the forth morning since his rescue. The fever continued to be a problem for the injured man and Jackson made sure they kept him cooled him down with water. Whoever's turn it was to stand vigil also made sure they gave the gunslinger the teas and broth Jackson supplied each time he was awake.

Vin knew this was the last of the medicinal tea and worried what would happen if the gambler didn't return soon. He smiled tiredly as two green eyes met his. "Hey, Cowboy, how're you feelin'?"

Larabee swallowed with some difficulty before answering. "F...feel like shit, V...Vin."

"I bet ya do. I'm sorry, Chris, sorry we didn't get ta ya before he did this..."

The gunslinger shook his head and interrupted. "N...no, Vin...not your fault. N...no way to k...know w...what he r...really was. F...fooled e...everyone..."

"Didn't fool you. Ya knew somethin' was wrong with him the minute he stepped off the stage."

"J...just a f...feeling, Vin. G...guess I w...was right," he coughed and held his chest.

Tanner held a cloth in front of the cracked lips to catch the crud that came up. He prayed this wouldn't turn into another full scale attack. He lifted the gunslinger forward and held him against his arm.

Larabee's eyes grew wide for a few seconds, but he was able to get it under control. He was grateful for the steel strength that held him. He knew if the arms were withdrawn there'd be nothing holding him in position and he'd have fallen from the bed. "I...I'm ok, Vin...stopped," he said breathlessly.

The sharpshooter eased him back to the bed and picked up the cloth on the table. He washed the injured man's face and nodded at the whispered 'thanks'. "Got some mor'a Nate's tea fer ya."

"S...shit, t...tired of t...that s...stuff..."

"I heard that." Jackson smiled as he entered the room. The sharpshooter moved out of the way so the healer could examine the gunslinger. "How are you feeling, Chris?" he asked as he felt the pale forehead.

"T...tired...lot of p...pain in my c...chest."

"I know you do Chris," Jackson said sympathetically. "You've got some broken ribs on both sides and a long gash as well. It's not too deep but it took a lot of stitches to close up. You've also got a lot of congestion in your lungs and you really need to keep coughing to get it up."

"C...coughing h...hurts," Larabee rasped, the truth evidenced by his ravaged throat. His eyes were sunk into his head and surrounded by dark circles. The bruises on his face were starting to fade, but still were evidence of the brutal torment he'd endured.

Although they were forcing liquids into him the blond's lips were cracked. The healer knew from experience knew the fever was sapping whatever moisture his patient was able to take in. The small amounts of tea, broth and water often came back up and Jackson worried that his friend wouldn't have the strength he needed to fight his way back. His soulful brown eyes showed the concern he felt not only as a healer, but as a friend. He placed a hand on the blond's shoulder and spoke softly.

"I know coughing hurts, Chris, but it really is necessary. The more of this stuff you get off your lungs the better, so don't fight it. Now let's see about getting this tea into you and keeping it there. Okay?" The sweat soaked blond head dipped once, but no sound escaped the parched throat. Jackson held the warm liquid to the mouth and helped the injured man drink.

Slowly, painfully the gunslinger finished the tea and waited for the inevitable. He hated the feeling that grew in his stomach and fought it. His eyes betrayed the pain he was in and he felt the sharpshooter ease down beside him. He felt the younger man's hand join the healers and knew they were trying to sooth him. The pain in his chest escalated as the first of many coughs tore from him. His eyes grew panicked as he looked at the two men.

"Vin, just hold him forward while I get the herbs and set up the tent!" the healer snapped as he hurried away from the bed. Things were done quickly in order to ease the suffering of the weakened man.

Wilmington and Dunne joined them in the room and soon the tent was back over Chris Larabee. The hacking sound emanating from under the sheet scared each man, yet they knew from Nathan's explanation how important it was for the blond to do it.

Larabee held his hands to his chest as Tanner clasped him within the confines of his strong arms. He felt the painful sensations easing and his mind slowly surrendered to the call of sleep. Jackson's eyes met Tanner's and the two men breathed a sigh of relief. The sharpshooter eased the lean body back to the pillows and eased out from under the sheet. A fine sheen of sweat shone on his forehead as he stood away from the bed.

"Is he alright, Vin?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"As alright as he can be considerin' what that son of a bitch did ta him," Tanner hissed. "I need ta go for a ride," he explained. "I won't be gone long," and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Wilmington asked as the younger man reached the outer door.

The sharpshooter met the other man's tired gaze and knew he wanted the truth. "I'm gonna go back and make sure he's dead!"

"I'll come with you."

"No, Buck, Nate needs ya 'ere. I'm jest gonna see if there was anyway he coulda got outta there. It won't take long to check the area."

"Alright, Vin, but you watch your scrawny back. Chris needs us all here and I aim to see that he gets what he needs."

Tanner sighed as he headed out the door into the late morning sunlight. He wrapped his buckskin jacket around himself, knowing the chill was from the thought of Maguire and nothing to do with the temperature. He hurried towards the barn, saddled Peso and mounted him. He gently kicked the side of the animal and they raced forward. He could feel Wilmington's eyes following him and was glad the ladies man would be there when Chris woke up.

He rode hard and fast, wanting to find out whether the serial killer would be coming after his friend. '_Ya'd best be dead, Maguire or yer gonna find out all 'bout torture the Commanch' way and ya'll pay fer what ya did to Chris Larabee,'_ he thought angrily.

As soon as he came upon the site of the cavern he pulled Peso to a stop and tied him to a branch of a dead tree. He swore softly as he realized the entrance to the cave was totally obliterated. He wondered there were any other entrances. He remembered seeing the ground crumble and cover the vile man who'd tortured and killed so many. He walked towards the opening and tried to pull some of the rocks and debris out of the way. He knew it was a futile effort as each time he removed one many more took its place. An hour later he sank to his knees and breathed deeply. Sweat and dirt lined his face and clothes. A thin stream of blood rolled down his right cheek, evidence of the injury he received when a fair sized rock tumbled from the top and hit him above the eye. He knew there was no way Maguire could have escaped through this entrance. Breathing heavily he moved towards Peso and mounted up. He gasped as his mind finally registered the pain in his lower back, hands and fingers. He looked at the broken nails and scraped knuckles, indicative of just how hard he'd been digging through the rubble at the cave. He rode around the side of the hill, checking for another entrance. Three hours later he turned away from the area and headed back towards the farm, praying that Chris Larabee would still be alive once he got there.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

The Devil's Destiny---12

Josiah, Ezra and Mary rode through the long hours, not wavering in their efforts to get to the injured man. The extra horse helped carry the supplies they thought would be needed.

By the time they crested the ridge and slowly began the final trek of their journey they were tired beyond the point of exhaustion.

The Gambler knew they were close to the farm now and he turned to his companions. He pulled his horse to a stop and made sure they did the same. "Just to forewarn you, he's in a deplorable condition"

"I know that, Brother. You told us what that madman did to him," Sanchez told him

"I know I did, but I still think you'll be shocked by what you're going to see. Especially you, Mrs. Travis. I want you prepared for the atrocities inflicted on Mr. Larabee's person."

"Thank you, Ezra, but I assure you I'll be fine. How much further is it?"

"Maybe another hour," Standish explained. He looked up at the sound of an approaching horse. He sighed as he realized it was Vin Tanner. He knew where the other man had been and knew why he'd gone there. "Mr. Tanner, did you find anything?" he asked as the tracker pulled Peso to a stop beside them.

"The cave's completely buried. There's no way in hell the bas..." he stopped and glanced at Mary. "Maguire's dead. There's no way he could've gotten out before it collapsed. We all saw it bury him, Ez. I jest wanted ta make sure."

"How is Chris?" Mary asked worriedly.

"He's still breathin' Mary. Ain't in very good shape, but ya know Chris. He'll fight the devil and beat the odds. Right Ez?" the sharpshooter looked to the gambler for confirmation.

"Absolutely," Standish agreed.

"We'd better get goin'. Nate's outta supplies and he's worried about Chris gettin' pneumonia. Bastard had 'im tied up in a cave with nothin' on," Tanner explained, apologizing again as he realized his language might offend he blond haired woman.

"It's okay, Vin. I understand how you feel," Mary assured him. "You'd better let me take a look at your hands and head she suggested.

"It ain't bad right now, Mary, 'sides we got nuthin' 'ere ta fix it up wit'."

"I think we better get these things to Nathan so he can make sure Brother Chris stays with us," Sanchez supplied, knowing the healer would look after the stubborn Texan no matter how much he protested. Without another word five horses moved in the direction of the farm.

Chris watched the healer as his head bobbed. He knew the man was exhausted and he knew he was the cause of it. He tried not to move, not to breathe too deeply, knowing either would set his body on fire again. He was hot and cold at the same time. The pain from the injuries was slowly growing worse and he didn't want to make things worse. He knew Nathan was out of supplies. The healer was making sure he drank water, but even the small amount he took in seemed to make his stomach churn. He tried to suppress a cough, but soon felt a full blown attack come over him.

Jackson was wide awake and out of his chair before the first cough finished. He sat on the bed and helped his friend sit forward. He ignored the weak gasps of pain coming from the injured man. He held him as gently as he could, but knew his touch was still causing pain. He looked to the door as Wilmington and Dunne entered the room.

"What can we do, Nathan?" the ladies man asked worriedly.

"Pass me that cloth, Buck. I got nothing to give him until Ezra gets back here."

Wilmington passed the healer the wet cloth and watched as he wiped the battered face. He moved to the opposite side of the bed and sat so he was facing his friend. He waited for the coughing to subside and bit back a gasp as he looked into the fever bright eyes. "Hey, Chris, how're you doing?" he asked as Jackson eased the blond back on the bed.

"D...don't feel so g...good right now, Buck," Larabee rasped tiredly.

"I bet," the moustached man said as he took the cloth from the healer and slowly bathed his friends face and neck. "You're gonna be just fine, Chris. Hell, we're not ready to let you go. You gotta keep fighting."

"I am, B...Buck," Larabee smiled thinly. He felt like shit, yet he knew there was no way these men would let him give up. He tried to keep some of the pain from his face, but knew he was failing miserably. He looked from Buck, to Nathan to JD and could see the worry etched on his friends faces. A deep sadness struck him as he realized he was the cause of those lines. He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping to hide the sorrow he felt. A hand on his shoulder made him open tired green eyes.

"We're here for you, Chris."

Larabee smiled at the youngest member of their group. He knew JD Dunne grew up fast and that he was still learning the harsh realities of life in the west. "T...thanks, K...Kid," he said gratefully.

Nathan felt Larabee's forehead, concerned that the fever was continuing to rise. The heat was sapping the small amount of liquids they could get to stay inside him. His eyes met Wilmington's and he saw the same emotions in the blue eyes. "We need to keep giving him water until Ezra gets back here. I should've brought more supplies with me," the healer said.

"D...doing what you can, N...Nathan," Larabee's eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. He heard the pain in the healer's voice and knew he was blaming himself. "N...not your fault."

Jackson smiled at his friend, knowing Larabee was trying to ease his conscience. He waited a few minutes, praying that the man would sleep for a while. He looked towards the ladies man again and muttered. "I wish there was a real doctor here."

"Y...you're the... best d...doctor I ever m...met, Nathan," Larabee's tremulous voice whispered as he finally gave into the call of sleep.

The words of faith from his injured friend brought a hint of a smile to the dark skinned healer. He could see Larabee's confidence on the face of the other two men in the room and wondered why they gave that faith so easily. They settled down beside the injured man, keeping watch and making sure he stayed with them. A signal passed between them, one that they all recognized as a unified effort to save a friend.

They lost track of time as they sat in the room. Shadows lengthened as the sun dipped below the horizon. Still the man on the bed labored for each breath. The sound was harsh to the ears of the three men standing watch.

Buck, JD and Nathan looked at each other as the sound of riders came through the open window.

JD hurried to the front of the house and pulled open the door. His excited voice carried back to the men in the bedroom. "Its Vin and Ezra and they got Josiah and Mary Travis with them."

"Thank, God," Jackson sighed in relief, turning to the ladies man. "Stay with him, Buck. I'm gonna get some tea on to boil and get more of those herbs boiling. Call me if he needs something before I get this stuff ready."

"I will, Nate," Wilmington assured him.

The weary healer hurried into the other room and out the door. He smiled at Mary Travis as she passed him carrying supplies into the house. Vin and Ezra carried food and bandages into the house, leaving Nathan and Josiah alone outside the house. Jackson didn't miss the injury to the Texan's head or the grimace of pain as he lifted the supplies. His eyes also noted the bloodied fingers on both hands and made a mental note to care for them as soon as he finished taking care of the gunslinger.

"How is he, Nathan?" Sanchez asked.

Jackson looked into the ex-preacher's eyes and knew this man understood the emotional turmoil he was going through. "He's not good, Josiah, but now that you're here with the supplies things will get better."

Josiah Sanchez knew him longer than any of the others and he could read the pain in Nathan's brown eyes. He knew the healer was harder on himself than anyone else. His friend strived to heal the injured with everything he learned over the years. Sometimes that seemed inadequate, but what Jackson lacked in the way of school learning he more than made up for in experience. "Nathan, we're all here now, including Mary Travis. I think between the seven of us and a little Divine intervention he'll pull through."

The healer nodded slowly as he helped Sanchez with the last of the supplies.

Mary walked slowly into the bedroom, biting back a gasp as she saw the two occupants, one so beaten and battered, the other in obvious emotional pain as he stood watch over his friend. Mary remembered the day Buck Wilmington told her about Chris's family. She knew the private gunslinger was mad that his friend betrayed his trust, yet Mary knew the two men would do anything for each other.

Buck heard soft footsteps and looked up at the pretty blonde woman. "Mary," he said softly.

"How is he, Buck?" she asked as Wilmington stood up to give her his seat.

"He's in bad shape, Mary, but he's fighting."

"Of course he is," she smiled as a pair of glazed green eyes opened and looked at her. "Hello, Chris," she said.

"M...Mary," he rasped. His eyes turned to Wilmington and the ladies man knew what was coming.

"Easy, Chris. Mary, can you tell Nathan I need him?" Wilmington asked as he slid in beside his friend. He didn't bother to wait for an answer as he lifted the blond forward, taking the weight on his arm. He felt the first hacking cough and silently swore on Robert Maguire's soul. He looked up as Nathan hurried into the room. "This is a bad one, Nate," he hissed.

"I see that. Chris?" Jackson knelt in front of the sick man, trying to get him to focus his attention on him. "Listen to me, Chris. Josiah and Ezra brought me the herbs I need to help you. They are steeping right now. The teas will help with the pain and the fever," He turned to JD and Vin as they came into the room. "Set up the tent again and bring in the herb remedy."

The sharpshooter nodded and hurried out of the room, returning in less than a minute with a basin of steaming water. He placed the basin on the bed and with Dunne's help pulled the sheet down over the three men. Vin looked to the door and saw Mary's horror stricken face. He went to her and held her close. He felt her soft sobs as she fought to keep silent. No words of comfort were said, none were needed, both knew how much the injured man meant to them all.

Chris felt the pain in his chest ease and a cloth was quickly wiped over his face. He breathed deeply, taking in the medicinal steam, feeling it ease the burning sensation in his lungs. He felt Wilmington and Jackson ease him back on his pillows and hated what his weakness was doing to them. He knew they were worried and felt helpless and he would've loved to put them at ease. At the same time he knew he needed their friendship more than all the medications combined. He let his eyes slide closed and relished in the knowledge that his friends were there and he wouldn't have to face anything alone.

"Nathan, I have the teas."

"Chris, don't go to sleep just yet," the medic ordered. "Josiah's got something I need you to drink."

"J...Josiah's here?" Larabee opened his eyes and looked around the dull interior.

"I'm right here, Brother," Sanchez said as he took Wilmington's place under the sheet. He kept his face blank and forced a smile in spite of the shock of seeing the injuries on the man he respected as both a friend and leader. "Now why don't you drink the teas and we'll let you get some rest."

Larabee nodded and soon felt a cup to his lips. He sipped at it until the liquid disappeared and did the same to the second one. He remembered seeing the blonde haired newspaper woman and spoke softly. "M...Mary here?"

"She's here; she insisted on coming once Ezra told her they found you. Now why don't we get you comfortable and let you sleep."

"...am kinda t...tired, Josiah."

"Just close your eyes and sleep, Chris. One of us will stay with you."

"A...always do."

The cloudy green eyes closed and Jackson pulled back the sheet. He sat back and rubbed tired eyes. They still had a hard fight ahead of them, but with the additional supplies and medicines he knew Larabee's chances of survival were better. He looked at the six healthy people in the room with him, his eyes coming to rest on the sharpshooter. "Vin, I'd better take a look at your head and your hands."

"It'll keep till you get some rest, Nathan," the tracker assured him.

"I'll rest once I clean those wounds. There's so much dirt packed into the wounds on your hands that infection'll set in pretty fast. Now JD's gonna stay with Chris while the rest of us get some sleep. Look, all of you, I'm tired and Chris is gonna need all our help. That means we have to do this in shifts. JD's shift starts now, since he just got up. The rest of us will sleep as long as we can, eat when we're awake and spend the rest of the time making sure we keep that man in the world of the living. Because I for one, have no intention of losing that man. So just do what I'm asking you too and we'll all get along just fine," Jackson told them, leaving no room for arguments. "Mary, will you give me a hand with Vin?"

"Of course, Nathan," the woman said as she followed the weary tracker into the other room.

Jackson took a clean basin and poured warm water into it. He walked to the scarred wood table and placed it on top. He poured a small amount of Carbolic acid into the liquid and mixed it well. "Vin, I want you to put your hands in there and let them soak. Mary, can you clean the wound on his head for me?" He turned his eyes back to the sharpshooter and asked, "How bad's that back?"

"It's fi... It's not too bad yet, Nathan." He met Jackson's eyes and knew the healer could see right through him.

Nathan knew the tracker wasn't telling the whole truth, but he let it drop for now. He watched as Mary finished cleaning the wound above Tanner's eye and was relieved to see it wasn't as bad as he first thought. As long as it was kept clean the younger man wouldn't have any problems. He took a small bandage and placed it over the wound, wrapping another piece of material around his head and tying it at the back to hold the first piece in place.

Jackson sat heavily in the chair next to Tanner's, rested his elbows on the table and placed his face in his open hands. He rubbed at tired eyes and sighed deeply. No matter how often he did this it never got any easier. Taking a deep breath he lifted his head and turned his attention to the younger man's hands. He was pleased to see the dirt was soaked away from the skin. He took the now sullied water, dumped it and brought back the basin filled with clean warm liquid. He placed Vin's hands in it for a few minutes and then lifted them out.

Tanner remained quiet all through the healer's and Mary's ministrations. He knew Nathan was exhausted and yet the healer always did a thorough job when it involved his expertise. He balked when Nathan took out more bandages, but one look from the deep brown eyes stopped him before he had a chance to say anything. He watched as the former slave slowly wrapped clean bandages around both hands. The material was thin and he would be able to bend his fingers slightly.

"That's it. Just keep those on for a day or two and you'll be able to use your hands. I got something to rub into your back." He took a small jar and had Vin lift his shirt. He rubbed a liberal amount on the sharpshooter's back and replaced the shirt. "Mary," Jackson turned to the blonde woman. "Thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome, Nathan," she assured him.

"You've had a long ride so get some rest. You too, Vin, I think the others are already bedded down. JD'll call us if anything happens," he said, staring at the sharpshooter, almost daring him to disagree. He smiled as he watched the younger man stand up and head for his bedroll. Mary walked to the small, well worn sofa and lied down. Nathan smiled and moved to his own bedroll. It wasn't long before they were all sleeping.

"Hey Doc?"

The weary ex-Union medic turned at the soft drawl and cocked his head. Two blue-eyes, half mast, peered at him from the Texan's bedroll. The bandage was worn like a badge of honor and the mitten-like hands fumbled awkwardly.

"Thanks..."

"Get that mangy head down!" the soft brown eyes replied, with a wide smile.

JD stood in the door and glanced around the room. He smiled as he saw the sleeping forms spread out around the living room. They'd been sleeping for nearly four hours now and he knew they all needed it. He realized all it would take was the sound of his voice or a weak cough or moan from the injured man and they'd all be wide awake and in the room with him. He turned and walked back to the chair by the bed. He picked up the cloth and slowly bathed the sweat soaked forehead. He cursed the hated man who in his sick mind thought he could possess the gunslinger's soul. JD smiled as he realized no one would ever do that. The blond may be hurt and sick, but nothing or nobody could weaken his spirit, which in turn strengthened his soul. He admired Chris Larabee, admired him for being a man who was able to live with the pain of losing the family he loved more than anything. He knew Chris almost lost that battle, but in claiming the victory he'd come out a better man.

"You'll win this one too, Chris," JD whispered and was surprised when a hand reached out and clasped his. He looked at the bandages covering the wrists and most of the arm and swallowed painfully. He forced a smile to his face and spoke softly. "Can I get you anything?"

"T...thirsty," Larabee muttered.

"I got something for you right here," JD grinned as he reached for the cup of tepid willow bark tea. He knew how important it was to get the injured man to drink it. He eased the cup to the still swollen lips and watched as the gunslinger sipped at it, all the while fighting to keep the grimace off his face.

"T...thanks, K...Kid," Larabee managed a thin smile as he saw the look of pride on the young easterner's face.

"You want some water now, Chris?" at the slight nod of the blond head, JD placed the glass of cool water to his lips and waited for the older man to drink his fill. He moved the glass back to the table when he noted the look of panic in the green eyes. "Nathan says you shouldn't fight it, Chris. He says it'll make you feel better."

"D...don't h...help," Larabee moaned as the oncoming coughs once more tore through him. He felt hands lift him forward, but didn't know whose or how many. He didn't know how long the attack lasted, but he felt someone sit on the opposite side of the bed. Voices talked to him, but what they said didn't reach him. All his energy was focused on getting past this new round of agony. He leaned heavily into the arm holding him as he felt the urge ease a little and he was able to take a breath without it tearing his lungs from his chest. He heard their frantic voices and wanted to assure them he was alright now, but he couldn't find his voice. His eyes drifted closed and his head remained pressed against the young sheriff's arm.

"N...Nathan," JD's voice was desperate as he felt the body go slack in his arms. He watched the healer's frantic movements as he lifted the gunslinger back to the pillows.

Jackson's fear that they'd lost their friend was short lived as he felt the pulse in the neck. "He's still with us, but we need to get this damn fever down before it saps everything from him. JD," he called to the pale young man. "JD!" he repeated a little more forcefully until the eyes focused on him, "Did he drink anything?"

"T...the tea and some w...water. Is he okay?"

"He's okay for now, Kid. Mary, take JD outside so he can get some air," he ordered. He wanted to strip the wet blankets off the bed and check Larabee's wounds, but he didn't want the dedicated widow seeing the full extent of the injuries for the moment. He knew she would do as he asked because the kid was so pale he looked as if he would pass out on the spot. The shock of having his mentor go still in his arms weighed heavily on the young man and Jackson knew he needed to get out of the room for a while. He watched as Mary led the sheriff from the room before turning his attention to the sharpshooter. "Vin, you can't do much with your hands like that."

"I can help, Nathan."

"I didn't say you couldn't help, Vin. I said you can't do much. Look, we're gonna need to move Chris off the bed so's we can change the sheets. Josiah, Ezra, bring in some extra blankets and spread them on the floor. When they get that done I want you sitting there, Vin. Me, Buck, Ezra, and Josiah will lift Chris from the bed and place him beside ya. You'll need to keep him sitting so he breathes easier. Understand?" Jackson asked as Sanchez and Standish spread the blankets over the floor.

"Yeah," Tanner hissed as he sat on the blankets. He watched as the four men lifted the partially nude body from the bed and gently placed him in front of him. They eased him down so the gunslinger leaned into the sharpshooter's chest. He smiled as Buck placed a blanket over the blond, a silent reassurance passing from one man to the other. Vin watched as the others moved quickly around the bed, changing the sheets, blanket and pillow cases in order to make it more comfortable for the injured man. He looked down at the bandaged body he held and although he couldn't see his face he knew his friend was awake. He'd felt the change instinctively. "Chris, ya 'wake?"

"T...think so," came the weak reply.

"How're ya feelin'?"

"H...hot, t...tired, s...sick," Larabee answered softly.

"Well, Cowboy, yer 'urt pretty bad, but Nate's gonna fix ya up as good as new."

"H...how long h...have we b...been here?"

"Close ta five days now. Ya been in an' outta it mos' of the time. Ya been fightin' one 'ell of a fever too." Tanner saw the others watching him and knew they were leaving the two friends alone. This marked the first time the gunslinger was awake and breathing a little easier. He quickly turned his attention back to the man in front of him.

Larabee moaned as he twisted to face the younger man. His green eyes narrowed as they landed on the bandage wrapped around his friend's head. He lifted his hand and touched it, frowning as the younger man brought his bandaged hand up to touch it as well. "W...what h...happened?" he asked weakly.

"Jest got banged up a bit, nuthin' fer ya ta worry 'bout," Tanner assured his injured friend. He saw the green eyes fill with pain as Larabee grasped his bandaged hands in his own. "It's really okay, Cowboy, Nathan fixed em up."

Larabee's eyes took on a stony look as he glared weakly at the sharpshooter, "y...you went b...back," he hissed angrily, "Dammit...s...stupid, V...Vin...c...could've," his breathing grew more and more labored as he spoke to his friend. "B...been k...killed...Maguire...or...or c...cave in!"

"I told ya Maguire's dead, Chris."

Green, fever bright eyes widened hopefully. "Y...you f...found ...body?"

"Not 'xac'ly." Tanner couldn't quite meet the pained eyes. "I tried...the whole cave's buried. Ain't no way he coulda got outta there. Ain't no other way in 'r out. We saw 'im at the 'ntrance jest before it caved in.

"R...really dead," Larabee's eyes were filled with trust as he looked into the blue eyes. He saw the truth in them and relaxed his tense body. "Vin, he was c...crazy. U...used a whip a...and a k...knife a...and b...burned me a...and d...didn't work s...so u...used fists. He s...said I w...was d...destiny...n...needed me t...to s...scream. D...didn't scream, Vin... c....couldn't or h...he'd have w...won."

"Calm down, Chris," Jackson ordered as he knelt beside his patient. He watched the two men as the blond talked of his ordeal, but now he seemed to be panicking and was having difficulty getting air to enter his lungs. He watched as the blond head bobbed once and smiled. "You're gonna be just fine, Chris. I'm not gonna lie to you. You're gonna be in misery for some time to come, but as long as you do as I tell you you'll be fightin' to get outta bed in no time."

Larabee saw the worry on each face in the room including Mary and JD who returned from outside. He wanted to tell them he was fine, but this was one time he wouldn't lie. He looked from one face to another before coming to rest on the healer's once more. "U...up n...now," he said, hoping to convey to the others that he was indeed going to be alright. The sound of laughter from the man he leaned against struck a chord in his abused mind and he smiled as the others joined in the laughter. He let his eyes slide closed and listened to the sound of relieved laughter. He knew in his heart it would be a long time before he laughed as easily as his friends, but he didn't doubt that it would happen. He felt his mind drifting towards sleep and barely heard Nathan speaking to him. He opened his eyes and looked into the healer's eyes.

"Chris, we're gonna get you back in the bed."

"Okay," Larabee answered tiredly.

"Buck, you and Josiah take his legs. Ezra, you and JD grab his shoulders. I'll hold his waist," Jackson ordered.

"I'll help you, Nathan," Mary told him as she came forward and knelt beside the injured man.

Jackson nodded gratefully, "You take his head, Mary. Let's keep him as straight as possible. Are you ready, Chris?"

"N...not r...really," the blond answered and tried not to tense up as his friends lifted him off the floor. He held his breath as he was lifted from Tanner's grasp and carried the short distance to the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was settled into the dry sheets and covered with a blanket. He felt a cup placed to his lips and drank the familiar tasting tea. He drifted towards sleep unaware of the makeshift tent being set up and the medicinal vapors he breathed in. The only thing that registered in his fevered mind was that he was

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

The Devil's Destiny---13

"N...not r...really," the blond answered and tried not to tense up as his friends lifted him off the floor. He held his breath as he was lifted from Tanner's grasp and carried the short distance to the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was settled into the dry sheets and covered with a blanket. He felt a cup placed to his lips and drank the familiar tasting tea. He drifted towards sleep unaware of the makeshift tent being set up and the medicinal vapors he breathed in. The only thing that registered in his fevered mind was that he was safe and his friends would make sure he stayed that way.

Two days later Chris opened his eyes and looked around the small, but clean room. The heat he'd felt attacking his body every time he woke up no longer sapped his strength. He saw Mary Travis sitting in the chair by the window, her blonde hair framed in a golden halo of sunlight streaming in through the partially open blinds. He felt the familiar wheeze in his chest and waited for the coughing to begin anew. His breathing wasn't as bad now and he realized a lot of it had to do with his being able to cough up the crud from his lungs. He kept silent as he watched the woman across the room. He remembered bits and pieces of the last few days, but nothing seemed real. The only constants during that time was the agonizing pain in his body and the constant care of his friends and the woman now seated in the room with him.

He licked his lips and realized how dry his mouth and tongue were. He didn't want to disturb the newspaper woman, but he needed something to drink. He opened his mouth and was about to speak when he noticed the Texan standing in the doorway.

Tanner was surprised to see the twin green orbs gazing at him. The fever bright gaze that was present since they rescued the blond was gone. In its place was something Vin couldn't quite place. It was a cross between sadness and pain, with a touch of fear hidden in them as well. He understood all too well where each of these emotions came from, especially the fear. He remembered the look on Maguire's crazed face when they entered the cave. The man seemed to think they shouldn't have been there, that they had no right interfering with his plans or his destiny. Vin eased his lanky frame away from the door and walked to the bed. He sat on the edge and smiled at his friend.

"How do you feel?" he asked. He heard Mary Travis turn from the window and knew she was watching them.

"Tired."

"I bet ya are. How's the pain?" he asked as Larabee swallowed with some difficulty.

"It's not as bad as it was," he answered as Nathan Jackson came into the room. "Hello, Nathan," he muttered as the healer sat on the edge of the bed. He could see the exhaustion etched on the former slave's face and knew those lines were just as prevalent on the other's as well.

"Chris," he smiled as he reached out and touched the pale forehead and cheeks. "Feels like the fever's come down quite a bit."

"Not so hot," Larabee agreed.

"That's good, Chris. Now all we gotta do is build your strength back up and help you heal."

Larabee nodded and covered his mouth as he coughed. His chest still hurt, but it wasn't the agonizing torment it once was. His ribs were now the worst part as he held his arms against them. He groaned as he sat up straighter and tried to put the worried faces at ease. "It's okay. It d...doesn't hurt as much as it did," he told them.

"That's good, Chris," Jackson said as he turned to see Josiah enter the room with a cup in his hands. He took the cup and smiled at the ex-preacher before turning back to the pale man on the bed. "Drink this," he ordered.

"Horse..."

"Piss, yes that's what it is. Now don't start arguing already. Let's get this into you." He watched Larabee's eyes widen and knew what he was about to say. "No!"

"What?" the blond asked, a small grin on his face. He smiled as JD, Ezra, and Buck entered the room.

"No, you're not getting any whiskey so get that thought out of your mind right now."

"I d...didn't say I wanted whiskey," the blond told him.

"You didn't have too. I know that look and I know what it means. It means Chris Larabee is feeling better and it doesn't matter what Nathan Jackson says."

Larabee realized how many times those words would've been true. He lifted serious green eyes and met those of the man who worked so hard to save his life. Not just this time, but all the times over the last few years since they met that fateful day in the cemetery. He sent his trust through the gaze and spoke softly, using his eyes to encompass everyone in the room. "Not this time, Nathan. I thought that bastard was going to kill me. You won't get any arguments from me."

Jackson didn't like the almost defeated quality in the gunslinger's voice. He knew he needed to lighten the man's mood and he turned to look at the others in the room. "Okay, you guys heard him. The next time I tell him to eat, drink, rest, or sleep he'll do it without arguing." He saw the smile on Larabee's face and knew his patient understood what he was doing. "You do as I say, Chris, and won't be long until you're up and around. Now, I think it's time you drink this and go back to sleep."

"All I do is sleep," The voice growled weakly, but the eyes were soft and held a teasing light as he accepted the herbal tea and sipped it gratefully.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Jackson returned the grin, glad to see just a touch of the mischievous smile on the gunslinger's pale face. He watched the liquid disappear and the eyelids grow heavy. He reached out and took the cup from Larabee's hands and signalled for the others to leave the room.

"I'll stay with him, Nathan," Tanner said.

"Alright, Vin, the rest of you out."

Vin sat in the chair and watched the others file out of the room. He looked down at his healing hands and wondered if Maguire really was dead. In his heart he felt the man was truly out of their lives, but a small doubt niggled at the back of his mind.

"You're not sure."

The sharpshooter looked at the man on the bed and waited for his eyes to open before answering. "...purty sure, but..."

"Without seeing the body we'll never know for sure," he saw the shaggy head bob once and continued. "Vin, Maguire was crazy, but he believed in what he was doing. He really thought he could take my soul by t...torturing and finally killing me with his bare hands. That belief was strong in him right to the end. There's only one thing stronger than his belief and that's my belief in you, in the seven of us," Larabee insisted. "I really believe he's dead, but only because you told me what you saw," he said as he looked at the tracker's torn nails and scraped fingers and hands. "Them torn up hands tell me you tried long after anyone else would have kept at it." He paused and looked right through those deep blues, to Vin Tanner's soul. "I trust you, Tanner, anybody else, I'd have to see for myself. He's dead and he w...won't be c...coming b...back," Larabee wheezed. "It's done...leave it buried with him."

Tanner knew the injured man was at the end of his energy. The broken words at the end of the long speech told him the man needed to stop talking, catch his breath and sleep. He gently patted the right shoulder, knowing the gesture would be taken for what it was, a sign of friendship.

It wasn't long before Tanner heard the soft wheeze that signalled the injured man was sleeping. He sat back in the chair and realized Chris Larabee was putting all his faith in him, at least when it came to the serial killer's death. He sighed as he realized how much the blond's confidence in him meant. He smiled knowing no matter what happened he'd be there to help his friend heal both mentally and physically.

Over the next week Chris Larabee regained some of his strength and his body began the slow process of healing. He stayed in the bed, propped up on pillows, and talked with whoever was in the room with him. Mary Travis insisted on staying with him as much as anyone else and Chris was grateful for her company. He asked her about Billy and was glad to hear he child would be returning to Four Corners as soon as school let out. More often than not he'd fall asleep in the middle of a conversation as his still healing body grew weary with the least amount of spent energy.

Chris knew the others were worried about him and he knew it was because he didn't seem to be putting up much of a protest. He knew they were expecting him to argue about everything and normally he would have. Unfortunately his brush with death at the hands of the madman, the subsequent rescue and caring by his friends gave him a whole new outlook on life. He realized what he was feeling was self pity, yet he didn't know how to stop it. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep he found himself back in the cave and at Maguire's mercy. He closed his eyes as he remembered the look on Mary's face when he screamed as she'd touched his arm. The dream at that time was particularly vivid and he struck out, barely missing hitting her, as all he saw was Robert Maguire. When he realized it was Mary he turned away and wouldn't face her.

Vin and Buck noticed Larabee's sudden fear of sleeping and they decided it was time to talk to the gunslinger. It was time to bring everything out in the open. After talking with Nathan they arranged for everyone, including Mary Travis to be in the bedroom when Chris Larabee woke from his sleep.

_Chris felt Maguire's breath in his ear as he whispered. "You're my destiny, Chris Larabee. Are you prepared to give me your soul?"_

"No! My soul is my own...B...bastard...won't let you do t...this! Y...you're dead...can't hurt a...anyone anymore!""Oh, but I can, Chris. Why don't I start with this man!"

"_NO!" the blond shouted as he saw Vin Tanner pulled towards the cave entrance._

"_No, not him. Okay, what about Mary Travis or maybe Buck Wilmington or the man you think of as the healer?" _

_Faces swam before his eyes, faster and faster until there was no way to distinguish who was who. Tanner, Travis, Wilmington, Jackson, Sanchez, Standish, and Dunne all flowed past in one unintelligible mass. "No!" Chris cried, his chest heaving as he fought to bring air into his lungs once more._

"_First they die and then you. You will watch as I kill each one, especially the beautiful Mrs. Travis. I think she should be first."_

_Chris watched as the scalpel rose high above Maguire's head and plunged towards Mary's exposed throat. "No, God damn you..."_

"NO!"

Seven people gasped as they heard the bone-chilling cry from the man on the bed. Wilmington was the first to reach his friend. "Chris, come on, wake up, Pard, it's just a dream." He watched as the chest heaved and unfocused green eyes opened. "Look at me, Chris. That's it come on," he smiled as the eyes finally rested on him and he knew Larabee was seeing him and not something out of his nightmare. "Must've been some dream," he said.

"It was," the blond ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. He noted the others in the room and smiled thinly. "S...sorry," he apologized and coughed weakly. The attacks were a lot less frequent and shorter in duration, but they still affected his broken ribs.

"You've got nothing to apologize for, Brother," Sanchez assured him.

"Mr. Larabee, if anyone should be apologizing it's all of us for not realizing we had a maniacal killer in our midst. Mother would be appalled if she knew how easily I was taken in," Standish was once more hiding behind his natural facade.

"Chris, Mary found a newspaper clipping about Maguire," Tanner told him. "He's killed before"

"I know," Larabee informed them softly.

"You do?" Mary asked.

"He made sure I knew all about him," Larabee wouldn't meet their eyes, turning his head towards the window instead. "He killed his father."

"He killed others as well," Dunne piped in."

The blond nodded, but kept his eyes on the window, "He showed me a whip. The one he used on me. Told me it was new because he didn't want to use anything he'd used on anyone else on me. He said I really was his destiny and that once I screamed he'd have my s...soul," the gunslinger's voice caught on the last word. "He kept saying he'd know when the scream was real and that's when I'd die," he looked back at the group, unshed tears in his eyes. "I think I would've screamed before he killed me. I didn't want to. I fought it, but he kept hitting me..." he stopped as he saw Mary Travis and knew he couldn't go on with what he wanted to say.

Mary saw the look that clouded his face as he looked at her and realized she was the reason he stopped. She knew he needed to talk about this and he wouldn't with her in the room. He was too much of a gentleman for that. "Nathan," she waited for the healer to look at her. "I'm gonna finish making dinner. You guys keep Chris company."

"Thanks, Mary," Jackson said, his smile letting her know he knew why she was really leaving the room. He looked back at the gunslinger and waited for him to go on."

"J...just before you guys showed up he started using his fist. He told me it was the only way to get me to scream. I've been hurt before. Hell, I was beaten in the war when I was captured because I was the enemy and they thought they were right and I was wrong. The warden in Jericho prison had me beaten, but at least he had a reason. He did it for money. I've been shot in gunfights because someone wanted to prove they could take me down, but this bastard didn't do it for any of those reasons. There really was no reason. He thought I was his destiny..."

"You weren't, Chris," Sanchez told him. "Robert Maguire's only destiny lay with the devil and if I were a betting man I'd say he's smelling his own flesh burn in hell."

Larabee breathed in deep and looked at the older man. He could see the faith in the man's face and the belief in the words he just used. Those words spoken by a man who questioned his own faith held such force behind them that Chris felt the darkness begin to lift. The tight band around his heart began to lift as he looked from one face to another. With the injuries still fairly fresh on his body, and the memories still causing nightmares when he slept, he knew beyond a doubt that these men were his destiny. One that came together not because of someone forcing the issue, but by choice. A choice they'd all been given and one they'd embraced freely.

"Maguire was wrong."

"About what, Chris?" Tanner asked softly, seeing a new light in his friend's eyes.

"Destiny and what it means. He wanted to use force, but that wasn't the way. Destiny is something we recognize as given freely. The day the shot hit the whiskey bottle in my hand at the saloon was the first step to meeting my destiny. No devils involved, no force, no pain. Just six men I was destined to meet. My life changed on that dusty street in Four Corners because Vin Tanner, Nathan Jackson, Ezra Standish, Buck Wilmington, Josiah Sanchez, and JD Dunne happened to be drawn to a town filled with the bad element. Something drew us all there and I think it really was destiny. Our destiny."

"That's a very profound bit of wisdom, Brother. I could never have said it better myself," Sanchez grinned from ear to ear as he saw the life come back in Chris Larabee's eyes.

Silence fell over the group of men as they realized the impact of Larabee's words. It really was destiny that brought them all together and helped form the unlikely friendship. No matter what happened in the coming years that bond of friendship would be there. Through hell or high water each man vowed to be a part of the Magnificent Seven as they were now known as.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

The Devil's Destiny---14

A week later a wagon pulled into Four Corners as the sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the town and the eight people on the street in a fresh new light. Chris's recovery was well on the way now and the healer knew it was only a matter of time before the gunslinger would start to protest his restrictions. He knew he was lucky the man didn't argue about riding in the wagon. Nathan suspected part of it had to do with Mary Travis. The woman insisted she was tired and needed to sit in the wagon. The blankets and pillows made for a comfortable journey and to the healer's relief, Chris slept most of the time.

Chris woke just outside of town, his instincts kicking in and telling him he was home. He knew, now that Four Corners really was his home and he smiled at the woman seated next to him. He pulled himself up in the wagon so he was leaning against the sideboards.

"Good morning, Chris."

"Morning, Mary," he smiled and stifled a yawn.

"How do you feel?" the woman asked.

"Good," he breathed deeply, letting the sun bask his handsome features, "I'm home, Mary..."

Mary smiled at the sound of his voice. Each day he continued to regain his strength and she suspected it would go even faster now that they were back in Four Corners. She smiled at the look on his face as the wagon came to a halt in front of Nathan's clinic. She saw the determination and knew Chris Larabee was back. _'Poor, Nathan_,' she thought as the healer dismounted and walked towards them.

"Okay, Chris, let's get you up to the clinic."

"Hell, Nathan, I don't need the clinic. I'll sleep better in my own bed."

"I knew it was too good to last. What happened to I'll do anything you say, Nathan?"

"I'll let Inez know we're back and see about getting some breakfast made," the blonde woman told them.

Larabee smiled as Mary Travis climbed out of the wagon, and then turned back to the healer. "Damn, Nathan, you know me..."

"I know you. I know Vin, I know..."

"What the hell did I do?" Tanner asked as he stepped up to the wagon.

"You say you'll do everything I tell you and the minute you're feeling a little better you forget those words," Jackson snapped.

"Well, Brother, you might as well grin and bare it. We're all the same. None of us like to be laid up. We like to move around, tend our own needs and make our own mistakes," Sanchez laughed as he swatted the healer on the back.

"Alright, Chris, you can go to your own room..."

"Thanks, Nathan," Larabee's cocky grin was back.

"Let me finish," Jackson ordered. "You can go to your room after I check you over. I want to make sure everything's okay and nothing's opened up."

"I guess that's okay," Larabee smiled as he slid to the edge of the wagon. He was still sore, but he was healing and he was bull-headed to do things on his own.

"Well, Gentlemen, even though this promises to be another glorious morning I need to partake of the soft mattress on my bed. Mr. Larabee, it's good to have you back," Standish turned and walked away.

"Well, Stud, me and JD best see what's been happening at the jail" Wilmington said as he touched Larabee's shoulder.

"I'll see you later, Chris," JD called as Buck pulled him towards the jail.

"I'm going to check on the church," Sanchez told them as he walked away.

"I'll help ya up ta Nathan's, Chris," Tanner said as he helped the gunslinger stand on shaky legs.

Jackson and Tanner flanked the gunslinger as he made his way up the stairs. Once he reached the landing he turned and looked out over the sleepy town. The sunlight slowly made its way down the street, driving back the shadows and showing the town in a new light. _'This really is my destiny,'_ he thought. He closed his eyes and realized how true those words were. His friends, the people and this town were part of him now and would forever be a part of his life. He sighed and followed Nathan Jackson into the clinic knowing he was home for good.

She looked at the small brown paper bound package. The only address on it said Four Corners. She didn't know anyone in Four Corners, yet the package was addressed to her. She tore at the paper until the contents sat before her. A small black, leather bound journal sat before it. It was old and the edges were beginning to fray. She opened it up and read the name inscribed on the first page. She looked towards the tiny room that held a small boy. The child belonged to the man who kept the journal. He'd sent it to her many times over the years, usually just after he found his next victim. She knew he'd be coming to collect it as soon as he was finished with the newest one. She opened the last page of writing to see who the new man would be. She knew he would have blond hair, green eyes and would be about six feet tall. She read the name and smiled. "Maybe Chris Larabee will be the one and you'll finally come home to me and Bobby for good," she said as she lay down on her bed and held the journal close to her chest. A soft sob slipped from her as she watched the sky outside the window darken. In her heart she knew Robert Maguire would not return from this trip. The father of her son would never see him grow up, but somehow she would teach him about destiny and how important it was to find yours and make it come true. She would read to him from the journal, just as she read from the tattered story book she owned. She stood up and walked into the room where her three year old slept; she stroked the bruise on his cheek and spoke softly. "You will succeed where your father failed," she vowed as she lay down beside him.

THE END!!!!!! 


End file.
